Let's drink to the death of a clown.

My makeup is dry and cracked on my chin
I'm drowning my sorrows in whisky and gin
The lion tamer's whip doesn't crack anymore
The lions they won't fight and the tigers won't roar



So let's all drink to the death of a clown

The old fortune teller lies dead on the floor
Nobody needs fortunes told anymore
The trainer of insects is crouched on his knees
And frantically looking for runaway fleas

Let's all drink to the death of a clown

Thanks to all that has been following this blog.
Now it's all over.

My time at the Circus is history.

It has been sad to see the results of incompetent leadership at the Circus.

A wise man said that the mature fruits finally falls to the ground.

Let's hope that mature (or rotten) fruit will fall to the ground!

All the best to all of you!