Drumming Clown

As the lights go downthe drumming clownwhistled a melodyand as the rain pours downhis happy faceturned into a sad onethe autumn wind reminded himthat the circus had come and goneso he opened a pack of swisher sweetsand whistles down the first onehis clothes are raggedand his hat is dustyhis drum is missing snareshe maybe laughin and he may be cryinbut no one knows nor careshis belly's emptybut his heart is fullhe knows where he belongsso he steps aboard that lovely trainand he whitles his favorite songand as he sleepshe dreams of all the pretty girls he's seen throughout his lifeand though his dreams are sweethis aching feetawake him in the nighthe wakes to the sound of thunderand he thinks of a reason whythen he hangs his head to crythen he drifted off to a deeper sleepthat no one could disturband when he wokehe was at a place that was higher than the birdshe said my God I'm here at lastis this meant to beI've lived the life of a hobo clownwhistle tunes for moneyand his Lord spoke upand said my friendyou are not aloneyou've lived a good life my drumming clownand now you have a homeand somewhere a stockboy opens a crateand finds the butt of an old cigarhe hears a distant whistlingthen he gazes as the stars