The machinist climbs his ferris wheel like a brave    And the fire eater's lyin' 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       The runway lies ahead like a great false dawn    Fat lady, big mama, Missy Bimbo sits in her chair and yawns    And the man-beast lies in his cage sniffin' popcorn    As the midget licks his fingers and suffers Missy Bimbo's scorn    Circus town's been born       Whoa, and a press roll drummer go, ballerina to and fro    Cartwheelin' up on that tightrope with a cannon blast lightin' flash    Movin' 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"    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    Runnin' home to some small Ohio town    Jesus send some good women to save all your clowns       And circus boy dances like a monkey on barbed wire    And the barker romances with a junkie, she's got a flat tire,    And now the elephants dance real funky and the band plays like a jungle fire    Circus town's on the live wire    And the strong man Sampson lifts the midget little Tiny Tim way up on his shoulders, way up    And carries him on down the midway past the kids, past the sailors    To his dimly lit trailer    And the ferris wheel turns and turns like it ain't ever gonna stop    And the circus boss leans over, whispers into the little boy's ear "Hey son, you want to try the big top?"    All aboard, Nebraska's our next stop.