Act 2. Send in the Clowns
Isn't it rich? Are 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'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? Quick, 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? And where are the clowns? There ought to be clowns Well, maybe next year
Written by: Stephen Sondheim
Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
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