Chatting With Fireflies

Sad clown sitting in a downpour. Washing away the plastic smiles and squirting flowers, cherry nose cascading down the drain. He Tosses the big clown feet to the shoeless urchin on the street and his silly horn goes to the one everyone ignores, Sad clown sitting in a downpour. Now he's heading for the deepest woods a two-thousand-year-old tree-tomorrow singing in the boughs, near a virgin pond where he splashes the make-up away and slaps a genuine smile back into his face. Turning in for the night-under a roof of starlight settling the score with his plastic smile life, He's always been just a plain man, chatting with fireflies.