| Yellow
and red shoes are dancing on gray
the wondering eyes all gaze
Ribbons of fire meet the billowing sky
Hands in the air greet the 88 clowns on parade
Faces of white cracked in manacled smiles
The thunder of feet on tiles
Trumpets of gold split the lemonade shade
Tapping in time step the 88 clowns on parade
And When you see them, then your eyes won’t
believe
What they have seen
Should you see their ways and means, so strange
You’re hypnotized
oh . . . aye aye, aye aye, hey hey yeah -
The ruffle of shirts, cotton candy cane air
The tufts of their sun died hair
Run to the rapture, the fun that they’ve made
Sleeping in dreams of the 88 clowns on parade
Cause if you see them, then your eyes won’t
believe
What they have seen
Should you see their ways and means, so strange
you’re hypnotized
|
