The nose comes off of every clown,
The tents and high wires all come down,
And sorrow rules the day.
The elephants with trunks that blare,
The tigers with uneasy stare,
The women swinging through the air,
Line up to roll away.
The locomotive slowly chugs,
There's no time left for goodbye hugs,
But in my heart, a small hope tugs,
That they'll come back to stay.