Where have all the good clowns gone?
And where are all the mimes?
Where’s the streetwise Harlequin to juggle these trying times?
Isn’t there a jokester inside a tiny car?
Late at night I toss and turn and I wonder where you are
I’m holding out for a Bozo ‘til the end of the night
He’s gotta make jokes, entertain all the folks, and never cause no one a fright
I need a Bozo
I’m holding out for a Bozo with a big bow tie
And party balloons and a big pair of shoes and a good throwing arm with a pie