Is - n't it rich?  Aren't we a pair?
Me here at last on the ground, and you in mid-air -- 
Send in the clowns. 
Is - n't it bliss?  Don't you approve?
One who keeps tear - ing around, and one who can't move. 
But where are the clowns?  Send in the clowns.
Just when I 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. 
Don't you love farce?  My fault, I fear; 
I thought that you'd want what I want - sorry my dear. 
But where are the clowns?  Quick, send in the clowns. 
Don't bother, they're here.
Is - n't it rich?  Is - n't it queer, 
Los - ing my tim - ing this late in my career? 
But where are the clowns? There ought to be clowns...
Well, maybe next year.
"Send in the Clowns" words and music by Stephen Sondheim.