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.

... well maybe next year

(Frank Sinatra)