Each time I let you hurt me, I swear that it's the last. I long to be your lover, But you just want me for the laughs. There are those who think I'm charming, Yeah they think I'm Mr. Cool, But with you, I'm just a clown, A joker, and a fool.
But you don't deserve my anger, No, you're not the one to blame. I'm the silly moth That keeps on flirting with your flame. All you do is curl our finger, And I come running to your side, Ignoring all the tears and pain, Swallowing my pride.
Baby, your Bozo's back again. Yeah, put a big red nose on me. Hand me down my baggy pants with the polka-dots and then Crank up that old calliope. I know I swore I wouldn't come around, But there's no use, so why prenetend? Guess I was born to be your clown. Yeah, baby, your Bozo's back again.
Just like a Bozo painting, On a kiddie's punching bag, You knock me down and I bounce right back, Pretending it's a gag. I might as well wear grease paint, The way I play my part, But like Pagliacci, I'm playing With a real, live broken heart,
And, baby, your Bozo's back again. Yeah, put a big red nose on me. Hand me down my baggy pants with the polka-dots and then Crank up that old calliope. I know I swore I wouldn't come around, Ah, but there's no use, so why pretend? Guess I was born to be your clown. Baby, your Bozo's back again.
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Copy to Clipboard: Each time I let you hurt me, I swear that it's the last. I long to be your lover, But you just want me for the laughs. There are those who think I'm charming, Yeah they think I'm Mr. Cool, But with you, I'm just a clown, A joker, and a fool.
But you don't deserve my anger, No, you're not the one to blame. I'm the silly moth That keeps on flirting with your flame. All you do is curl our finger, And I come running to your side, Ignoring all the tears and pain, Swallowing my pride.
Baby, your Bozo's back again. Yeah, put a big red nose on me. Hand me down my baggy pants with the polka-dots and then Crank up that old calliope. I know I swore I wouldn't come around, But there's no use, so why prenetend? Guess I was born to be your clown. Yeah, baby, your Bozo's back again.
Just like a Bozo painting, On a kiddie's punching bag, You knock me down and I bounce right back, Pretending it's a gag. I might as well wear grease paint, The way I play my part, But like Pagliacci, I'm playing With a real, live broken heart,
And, baby, your Bozo's back again. Yeah, put a big red nose on me. Hand me down my baggy pants with the polka-dots and then Crank up that old calliope. I know I swore I wouldn't come around, Ah, but there's no use, so why pretend? Guess I was born to be your clown. Baby, your Bozo's back again.
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