Isn't it rich? Are we a pair?
Me here at last on the ground
You in mid-air
Send in the clowns
Isn't it bliss? Don't you approve?
One who keeps tearing around
One who can't move
Where are the clowns?
Send in the clowns
Just when I'd stopped opening doors
Finally knowing the one that I wanted was yours
Making my entrance again with my usual flair
Sure of my lines
No one is there
Don't you love a farce?
My fault, I fear
I thought that you'd want what I want
Sorry, my dear
But where are the clowns?
There ought to be clowns
Quick send in the clowns
What a surprise
Who could foresee?
I'd come to feel about you
What you felt about me
Why only now when I see
That you've drifted away?
What a surprise
What a cliche
Isn't it rich? Isn't it queer?
Losing my timing this late in my career
And where are the clowns?
Quick, send in the clowns
Don't bother; they're here

Copyright: Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): Stephen Sondheim