Рет қаралды 15,256
Single, (2017)
Isn't it rich? Are 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 flair
Sure of my lines 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
Quick send in the clowns
What a surprise, Who could foresee?
I'd come to feel about you What you felt about me?
Why only now when I see That you've drifted away?
What a surprise... What a cliche...
Isn't it rich, isn't it queer
Losing my timing this late in my career
And where are the clowns Quick send in the clowns
Don't bother, they're here
Produced by Faultline (David Kosten)
Written by Stephen Sondheim
All righs belong to the artists