Do you know what it's like to be a clown?
Do you know what it's like to suffer
from too many laughs?
Do you know what it is like for a
girl to be born a circus act?
Do you know what it's like to have a funny bone
for a brain?
I don't have any white paint
on my face, but I wear a mask.
I have a silly smile that never changes.
It's always there and everyone expects it to be there.
They like it that way.
They enjoy a clown and they use a clown
because they think a clown doesn't care
I can't enjoy a bad mood with other people.
That's a strange luxury.
I have to be a clown.
Whenever people tease me I turn into an act,
a fool standing on my head.
Then I look up and I see a world full of upside down people
trying to be what they aren't.
I see so many people wearing strange colorless makeup,
and the longer they wear it the harder it is to
discover what kind of people they really are underneath.
I'm waiting for someone to step behind my face
and find me!
Not Stevie, but me!
Lord, when will this Stevie be free to be me?