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Send in the clowns


Ecrite par Stephen Sondheim


Isn't it rich ? Are we a pair –
Me here at last on the ground, you in midair ?
But where are the clowns ?

Isn't it bliss ? Don't you approve
One who keeps tearing around, one who can't move ?
But where are the clowns ?
There ought to be clowns.

Just when I'd stopped opening doors
Finally knowing 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 farce ? My fault, I fear.
I thought that you'd want what I want... Sorry, my dear !
But where are the clowns ?
There ought to be clowns.
Don't bother, they're here.

Isn't it rich ? And don't you have fear,
I'd never ever let go of you, my dear.
But where are the clowns ?
There ought to be clowns.
Well, maybe next year.