In autumn he comes to this town

When the peoples guard is down

On a day like today

Overcast and gray

Bells were all ringing

The birds stopped their singing

The wind caught in the trees

Screaming to be free

He alights from the platform

In his usual uniform

His skin looks like he slept in it

Or had something rotten kept in it

And snakes stir in the thistles

Back of cats neck bristles

'Round vicious lips the fur is stained

The disillusionist is back again

They say that he's famous from the waist down

But the top half of his body is a corpse

His gold won't buy him sleep

His poverty runs so deep

In winter he cracks, in summer he warps





Hang around the backstage door

But he knows what you're waiting for

You rub yourself against his fame

Already ready to bear the blame

He asks you