Make way for a parade of clowns
dripping with the sweat of earthly pain
moving through the crowds of plastic people
quite protected from the rain.
See the drunkard
who hides his swollen bruises,
sorrow is wearing a three piece suit,
how trim, so smartly grim
and all around kids are playing
gathered in huddles and splashing in puddles
and jumping in holes and mother's upset
cause her children are wet,
it's bad for their souls.

These clowns are having a circus
to raise money against a war,
painted fools who pass the hat for peace,
well, what else is money for.
They pass a statue of a well known thief of old,
an everlasting monument to stealing gold.
The clowns look up,
they point their eyes at gloomy skies
dogs bark and run through the park
while god starts to roar
the thunder explodes all over the roads
and tears start to pour.

They pass the red light district
which is filled with giant breasts,
ten dollars for all you can eat,
drink up your milkshake made of lust,
a meal served on the street,
from a car a man yells out his order,
and stuffs his face, with perfumed lace
and he's full and vultures wait
to fill their plate when he is gone.
The streets are shining like silver mirrors
the city's beserk and yet,
the clowns keep marching
on to finish their work.