I went to the circus when I was thirteen;
Everything was turkus,
All in a rurkus,
And my body brought me to an automated teller machine.
Its face was a gypsy, but there wasn't something quite right;
Then I became real tipsy,
I saw smoking hippies,
And when I woke, I couldn't find my parents by a long sight.
The circus, the circus had closed down.
Besides the ghosts, I was the only one in town,
And the only thing left was a rusted old crown.
5194 the history book told me.
Nothing could solve this, there was no key,
And so I let me dreams take me to the sea.
When I awoke, I wakened with a jolt;
I was under a cheastnut oak,
Covered in a velvet cloak,
And everything was normal, just as it was supposed to be.