Is it not rich?
Are we a pair?
Me here at last on the ground,
You in mid-air,
Sending the clouds.
Isn't it bliss?
Don't you approve?
One who keeps tearing around And one who can't move.
You are the clowns,
Send in the clowns.
Just when I stopped opening doors,
Finally knowing the one that I wanted was yours,
Making my entrance again with my usual flair,
Sure of my lines,
but no one is there.
Don't you love the farce?
My fault I fear.
I thought that you'd want what I want, Sorry,
my dear.
But where are the clowns?
Send in the clowns.
Don't bother,
they're here.
Isn't it rich?
Isn't it queer?
Losing my timing this late in my career.
But where are the clowns?
Send in the clowns.
Well, maybe next year.
