I’m a 1 man 3 ring circus.
Denying the ringmaster His control;
Things could get pretty interesting.
Over here you see the clowns
in the little car.
They’re the lies that I’ve told
that I’ve sold
that I’ve bought
that have wrought the misery
I’m in.
I’m a 1 man 3 ring circus.
Denying the ringmaster His control;
I now find the rings start dissolving.
Now the freaks and the geeks
begin their parading
around a tiny ring.
The crowd screams;
the freaks jeer
at the fear and terror
I’m in.
I’m a 1 man 3 ring circus.
Denying the ringmaster His control;
A Big Top full of pandemonium.
The animals have broken free;
they swallowed the trainer’s whole.
Now they prowl through the tent
their claws bent
for the kill.
I try to still the panic
I’m in.
I’m a 1 man 3 ring circus.
Returning the ringmaster His control;
Think I’ll step back to enjoy the show.




Good morning. Ever have that feeling of walking out onto a stage and the director of the play has just handed you the script seconds ago. The audience expects you to postulate and recite with such emotion that they will leave the auditorium with tears and cheers. Instead you look down and open the book and read in a monotone or much worse, unsure voice ending each phrase in a quetsion, as if to say “is this right?”