Isn't it rich, aren't 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 stopped opening doors
wanted
usual
tearing
stopped
sorry
quick
queer
opening
making
losing
again
approve
surprise
cliche
career
bliss
timing
clowns
ought
knowing
bother
where
thought
foresee
about
doors
could
fault
yours
lines
entrance
there
farce
around
drifted
finally
ground
flair
keeps
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