Oh Ye Whose Eyes Hold No Soul,
Wandering the Streets for a bit of gold,
Born a Treasure of Pureness and Grace,
Now Reduced, Hollowed by Stranger's Embrace.

When Oh When, Will the Fire Ignite,
The Embers that Burn In the Gaze of Those Sight.
A Savior She Seeks, But There is None,
None in the World, that will rewrite Her Song.

Look up to the Heavens, there She Sees.
That it is there that Her Glory be Redeemed.
She Reaches Out, Unable to Grasp,
She Cries Out, in Hope and Despair.
In Loving Arms, a Savior Came,
One Whose Heart, Covers all Shame.
In His Wings, He Took Her Up,
In His Grace, She Was Restored

The Strides, The Laugh,
The smile on his face.

Laughter, His Purpose,
A fool on the stage.

To Dance, To Juggle, To please the Crowd.
After Applause, Away with a Bow

There lies a face that few have seen,
A face that hides behind the scene

Behind the Mask, Behind the Smile,
Behind the fancy clothes, Behind the Veil

The Tears he Cry, the Eyes so Sore,
The Heart that Bleeds, The Mouth that Roars

Pulling His Hair, That Orange Wig.
Lies a Man, Broken & Weak.

No Laugh, No Smiles Behind The Stage,
Just Tears, Just Pain. An Empty Embrace.

The Joy He Seeks, End with frowns.
This is the Parody of the Clown