The Cryin Clown
There's a well traveled "Broken Heart Lane"
On the outskirts of my hometown
People come from miles around
Sharing misery from love in vain
A honkytonk where sad songs flow
Underneath a flashing neon sign
Where libations and music combine
To be a pied piper for lonely souls
From the first time I walked in
Found an empty booth at the back
My love train had jumped the track
Those sad songs were not my friends
I'd sit by that whiskey river
That ran from the sea of love
They'd always give me a shove
When their message was delivered
It was called "The Cryin Clown
Performances were always live
You could slow dance with brokenhearted wives
Until the river pulled you down
One day I finally moved away
Broke loose from my pillory
That old clown would call to me
Every time those sad songs played
I may be love's circus clown
I know where I won't be found
In a river where whiskey drowns
Neath the sign of the Cryin Clown
an original poem by the "Poemdog" Daniel Turner
Pillory - wooden framework with holes for the head and hands
where the offender was exposed to public abuse
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