There's clowns with smiles full of color
That laugh so they can hide how much it hurts
Trapeze artists with ties like they're misters
And buffoons like plagues on the TV
In the circus what bores, entertains you
There's doggies leaping like fools
And elephants directing a ministry
Hitmen with pleasant nicknames
Acrobats of motorcycle and cemetery
In the circus if it doesn't kill, it's a cure
Mimes without liberty
The soul dies if you are a marionette
Circus of solitude
The crisis jubilation to another poet
Truths that carry traps in the suitcase
Characters that so love the proletariat
That turn to wizards if they're multiplies
Hunchback like proper dromedaries
To hide what Sunday purifies
In the circus if you're close they splash you
There will always be a good beast tamer for whomever lets himself
And harlequins that lend themselves to buy them
There's the tiger who eats whomever complains
And the horse you caress in order to mount
In the circus he who thinks needs to be scared
Mimes without liberty
The soul dies if you are a marionette
Circus of solitude
The crisis jubilation to another poet
The circus survives with pirouettes
Will you be the firebreather or the buffoon
He who throws knives or the fakir
Will you be the ticket seller or the patron
Or he who steps on others to rise up
Mimes without liberty
The soul dies if you are a marionette
Circus of solitude
The crisis jubilation to another poet
And a child receiving the mail