Wild Billy’s Circus Story Bruce Springsteen

[Intro]
Ah-one, two, three, four

[Verse 1]
The machinist climbs his ferris wheel like a brave
And the fire eater's lying in a pool of sweat, victim of the heatwave
Behind the tent the hired hand tightens his legs on the sword swallower's blade
And circus town's on the shortwave

[Verse 2]
Well the runway lies ahead like a great false dawn
Whoa, fat lady, big mama, Missy Bimbo sits in her chair and yawns
And the man-beast lies in his cage sniffing popcorn
As the midget licks his fingers and suffers Missy Bimbo's scorn
Circus town's been born

[Verse 3]
Whoa, and a press roll drummer go, ballerina to and fro
Cartwheeling up on that tightrope with a cannon blast lightning flash
Moving fast through the tent Mars bent, he's gonna miss his fall
Oh God save the human cannonball
And the flying Zambinis watch Margarita do her neck twist
And the ringmaster gets the crowd to count along: "Ninety-five, ninety-six, ninety-seven"

[Verse 4]
A ragged suitcase in his hand, he steals silently away from the circus grounds
And the highway's haunted by the carnival sounds
They dance like a great greasepaint ghost on the wind
A man in baggy pants, a lonely face, a crazy grin
Running home to some small Ohio town
Jesus send some good women to save all your clowns