The machinist climbs his ferris wheel like a brave And the fire eater's lyin' in a pool of sweat, victim of the heatwave Behind the tent the hired hand tightens his legs on the sword swallower's blade
And circus town's on the shortwave
The runway lies ahead like a great false dawn Fat lady, big mama, Missy Bimbo sits in her chair and yawns And the man-beast lies in his cage sniffin' popcorn As the midget licks his fingers and suffers Missy Bimbo's scorn Circus town's been born
Whoa, and a press roll drummer go, ballerina to and fro Cartwheelin' up on that tightrope with a cannon blast lightin' flash Movin' fast through the tent Mars bent, he's gonna miss his fall Oh God save the human cannonball. And the flying Zambinis watch Margarita do her neck twist, And the ringmaster gets the crowd to count along: "Ninety-five, ninety-six, ninety-seven" A ragged suitcase in his hand, he steals silently away from the circus grounds
And the highway's haunted by the carnival sounds They dance like a great greasepaint ghost on the wind A man in baggy pants, a lonely face, a crazy grin Runnin' home to some small Ohio town Jesus send some good women to save all your clowns
And circus boy dances like a monkey on barbed wire And the barker romances with a junkie, she's got a flat tire, And now the elephants dance real funky and the band plays like a jungle fire Circus town's on the live wire And the strong man Sampson lifts the midget little Tiny Tim way up on his shoulders, way up And carries him on down the midway past the kids, past the sailors To his dimly lit trailer And the ferris wheel turns and turns like it ain't ever gonna stop And the circus boss leans over, whispers into the little boy's ear "Hey son, you want to try the big top?" All aboard, Nebraska's our next stop.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
