Cotton candy, two for a quarter…
See if the fat man can guess your weight.
A big, stuffed tiger is what I bought her
and I’m going home, ’cause it’s late.
Roller coasters make me dizzy
and cotton candy makes me sick.
I wish I had some Bromo fizzy
— that would do the trick.
Everyone knows that the clowns aren’t happy
and everyone knows that the people don’t care.
I wish I could laugh at the way that they’re acting,
but I’m so sick… I just don’t dare to.
High wire dancers kick and balance;
White, silk horses step in time.
The tattooed man displays his talents…
I’m not the talented kind.
I always go to the circus on Sunday
and there I can laugh at the people I see,
but when I leave home in the morning on Monday,
everybody laughs at me.
You know, I make other people nervous,
I guess that’s why they laugh at me,
but to me, my life is a three-ring circus
and I can see it for free.
Have you seen my wife, Elvira?
She can tame a lion, you know.
Well, I once had a bushy mane,
but that was so damn long ago.
Tight-collared clowns in plastic buildings
have happy families as their fate.
Happy jobs and happy clubs and happy people they hate.
Everyone’s juggling and everyone’s acting
with smiles of greasepaint, three feet wide.
And everyone’s caught on a carousel pony
one time around is a lifetime ride.
