Lights are bright in the circus. The geeks and the freaks all light cigarettes and laugh at your misery. While the white of the curtain closing crushes your heart. The inertia of loneliness tears your flesh apart. It's a long slow slide. It's a long slow slide. It's a long slow slide. Down. Once the neon is gone. There's still that golden splinter at your side. His manners are charming. But who are you fooling. You're still nobody's bride. And Bukowski's widow. Haunts each empty seat on the ferris wheel. As ghoulish lovers collide in a collage of kisses that they steal. It's a long slow slide. It's a long slow slide. It's a long slow slide. Down. And outside your window you can see the circus it's lurching. with rings of smoke. You laugh halfheartedly at the punchline. Not realizing they've made you the joke. And inside you're heart a war is raging. A region still untamed. The worst fear I can imagine is for the mystery to be named. Is for the mystery to be named. It's a long slow slide. It's a long slow slide. It's a long slow slide. Down