text: Ah-one, two, three, four
  The machinist climbs his ferris wheel like a brave
  And the fire eaters lying in a pool of sweat, victim of the heatwave
  Behind the tent the hired hand tightens his legs on the sword swallowers blade
  And circus towns on the shortwave
  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 Bimbos scorn
  Circus towns been born
  Whoa, and a press roll drummer go, ballerina to and fro
  Cartwheeling up on that tightrope with a cannon blast lighting flash
  Moving fast through the tent Mars bent, hes 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 highways 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
  And circus boy dances like a monkey on barbed wire
  And the barker romances with a junkie, shes got a flat tire
  And now the elephants dance real funky and the band plays like a jungle fire
  Circus towns on the live wire
  And the strong man Samson 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 aint ever gonna stop
  And the circus boss leans over, whispers into the little boys ear Hey son, you want to try the big top?
  All aboard, Nebraskas our next stop