Isn't it rich,
aren't we a pair.
Me here at last on the ground,
you in mid air.
Send in the clowns.
Isn't it bliss,
don't you approve?
One who keeps tearing around,
one who can't move.
Where are the clowns?
Send in the clowns.
Just when I'd stopped,
opening doors
finally knowing the one that i wanted was yours.
Making my entrance again with my usual flare,
sure of my life,
no one is there.
Don't you love farce,
my fault I fear.
I thought that you'd want what I want, sorry my dear.
But where are the clowns?
There ought to be clowns.
Well, maybe next year.

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