| The machinist climbs his ferris wheel liek a brave
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| And the fire eater’s lyin' in a pool of sweat victim of the heatwave
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| Behind the tent the leatherboy tightens his legs
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| On the sword swallower’s blade
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| Circus town’s on the shortwave
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| Well now (and) the runway lies ahead like a great false dawn
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| Oh fat lady, Missy Bimbo, sits in her chair and yawns
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| And the man-beast lies in his cage sniffin' popcorn
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| The midget licks his fingers and suffers Missy Bimbo’s scorn
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| The circus town’s been born
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| Oh and a (the) press-roll drummer go, ballerina to-and-fro
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| Cart-wheelin' up on (across) the tightrope
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| (And) with a cannon blast, lightning flash, moving fast through
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| The tent Mars bent, he’s gonna miss his fall
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| Oh God save the human cannonball
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| And the flying Zambini’s watch Marguerita do her neck twist
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| (And) the ringmaster gets the crowd to count along
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| Ninety-five, ninety-six,…ninety-seven
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| And behind the tent half bent money spent
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| With his wet face fallin' (make-up drippin') on the ground
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| With a half-smile half-frown goin' down
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| Oh Jesus sent some sweet women to save all the clowns
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| And circus boy dances like a monkey on barbed wire
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| And the barker romances with a junkie, she’s got a flat tyre
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| And the elephants dance real funky, and the band plays like a jungle fire
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| Circus town’s on the live wire
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| Samson lifts the midget up above the liars
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| Hear the liars, they’re outside crying
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| Hear the liars, they’re inside sighing
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| Hear the liars, listenin' to the barker
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| Hear the liars, watching the centre ring
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| Oh hear the liars, up on the trapeze
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| Oh hear the liars, feel their fire
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| Oh hear the liars, feel their fire
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| Oh hear the liars, they’re all scared of dying
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| Well anybody wants to try the big top
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| All aboard, Nebraska’s our next stop
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| Songs To Orphans (Part 4, 5) |