| She’ll fix you with an iron cross
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| And cover you up with petals
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| And hang you up with some amber beads
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| And four or five precious metals
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| And in that black flamingo chair
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| You’ll sit among her trophies
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| And pray to be abandoned
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| Till you don’t know what hope is
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| But there’s one thing that i had to keep inside
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| Because i was shaking
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| Why don’t you get some pride
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| There was a clown strike
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| And the clowns threw down their tools
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| But you don’t have to play so hard
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| And i’m nobody’s fool
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| You don’t have to go so far
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| 'Cause i love you as you are
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| The big top is deserted now
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| And the circus girl rehearses
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| She knows how to turn their heads
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| And not fall between two horses
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| But all that seems a simple step
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| If only i were able
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| To love you like i want to do
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| And not by some times table
|
| And it’s pandemonium
|
| For the humble and the mighty
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| You don’t have to tumble for me
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| Even a clown knows when to strike
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| Tell me what you want of me
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| Or are you terrified of failure?
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| You put on a superstitious face
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| Behind all this paraphernalia
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| We’re not living in a masquerade
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| Where you only have three wishes
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| It isn’t easy to see
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| In a lifetime of mistaken kisses
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| In this pandemonium
|
| For the humble and the mighty
|
| You don’t have to tumble for me
|
| Even a clown knows when to strike |