There have been however many eras
And there has been brown war
There have been however many eras
And in the winter gales have blown
There have been however many eras
The one here this evening, in its prime
The one here this evening, in its prime
From the circus tent’s lofty beam
A solitary trapeze artist swings
A barely visible trapeze artist swings
A white lamp burning nearby
Exhales its breath of cheap ribbons
The spectators, all of them sardines,
With oyster shells of ululating throats
Yuahhn Yuyohhn Yuyayuyon
Darkness beyond the tent
The darkest dark
The evening stretches on endlessly late
With nostalgia for him in his little parachute Yuahhn Yuyohhn Yuyayuyon
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There have been however many eras
And there has been brown war
There have been however many eras
And in the winter gales have blown
There have been however many eras
The one here this evening, in its prime
The one here this evening, in its prime
From the circus tent’s lofty beam
A solitary trapeze artist swings
A barely visible trapeze artist swings
A white lamp burning nearby
Exhales its breath of cheap ribbons
The spectators, all of them sardines,
With oyster shells of ululating throats
Yuahhn Yuyohhn Yuyayuyon
Darkness beyond the tent
The darkest dark
The evening stretches on endlessly late
With nostalgia for him in his little parachute Yuahhn Yuyohhn Yuyayuyon
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