Frank Sinatra (法蘭克辛納屈)
Isn't it rich, are we a pair
Me here at last on the ground, and you in mid-air
Send in the clowns
Isn't it bliss, don't you approve
One who keeps tearing around, and one who can't move
But where are the clowns, send in the clowns
Just when I stopped opening doors
Finally finding 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 a farce, my fault I fear
I thought that you'd want what I want, sorry my dear
But where are the clowns, send in the clowns
Don't bother, they're here
Isn't it rich, isn't it queer
Losing my timing this late in my career
But where are the clowns, there ought to be clowns
Well maybe next year