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• Artiste: Dead Confederate
• Titre: Yer Circus
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The trapeze man has fallen The clowns have gone to bed Yer' circus turned belly up Broke its back against its debt What fools we played to clap hands For taming tigers tame Our pulse, applause, adrenaline For shaking out the names Names drawn out of empty hats Sketched lines of dirty faces When what you see is what you get Backstage is for the patrons Leaders spy through soothsayer's eyes In dark beyond the tents All we see, our history Just vapors from liars' breath The air we breathe when we retreat Disbanded on safe vacations Is ten times removed, to thoughts we will swoon From truth we expel occupation It's our disease, this death will breed It's blind asphyxiation