Isn't it rich, aren't we a pair.
Me all alone on the ground, you in mid-air.
Isn't it bliss, don't you approve.
One who keeps tearing around, one who can't move.
Just when I stopped opening doors,
realizing what I wanted was yours.
Don't you like farce, my fault I fear.
I thought you wanted what I wanted, sorry my dear.
Making my entrance with unusual flair, sure of my lines but no-bodies there.
Isn't it rich, isn't it queer,
losing my timing this late in my career.
Send in the clowns, yes send in the clowns well maybe next year
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