Clown's hands are
Feeble fibers of elastic coiling a spiral out
In through the ear
Wrapping fingers around the funny lobe
Can't talk now
Keep staring cuz a Demon's landed inside of you
Finally exiting
Through the mouth and sometimes the nose
Of the plagued audience
Slipping, sliding flying about
We are a
Slithering lake of potential excitement
Triangulating the focus
Why don't you turn around?
We have been
Sitting here for three weeks now and counting
We're getting impatient
When's he going to show us his lice?
A ripple is falling
Feeding, bruising, driving the crowd
This isn't what I expected at all
This isn't what I expected at all