by BruceSpringsteen » Sat Jul 15, 2017 10:38 pm
Well, the runway lies ahead like a great false dawn
Oh, fat lady, big mama, Missy Bimbo sits in her chair and yawns
And the man-beast lies in his cage sniffin' popcorn
And the midget licks his fingers and suffers Missy Bimbo's scorn
Circus town's been born
Oh, and a press roll drummer go, ballerina to-and-fro
Cartwheelin' up on that tightrope
With a cannon blast, lightnin' flash, movin' fast through the tent, Mars-bent
He's gonna miss his fall, oh, God save the human cannonball
And the flyin' 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
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❝Sometimes it's like someone
took a knife baby
Edgy and dull and cut a six-inch valley
Through the middle of my soul❞