Real Clowns Do Cry

My girlfriend was a Mexican wrestler
While I’m just a circus clown
She’d practice with her partner
Whenever I wasn’t around

They’d get each other in head locks
Practice breaking chairs
They rip off each other’s masks
Pull at each other’s hair

Whenever I’d come home
They’d act as if nothing had changed
I’d notice their new rug burns
The furniture, rearranged

I’d wash away my thick make up
But couldn’t wipe off my frown
I missed their reindeer games
They’d play without me around

Things were all fine
‘Till I came home one day
To find balloon animals
In much disarray

My monkey wasn’t in his tree
He was straddling a coconut
My puppy was on all fours
Like some common mutt

The room was thick with smoke
A hint of Mexican blend
Someone had messed with my porridge
But who and why, to what end?

I took off my fake nose
When I saw the note that said
“I’m sick of all your clowning
There’s a present under the bed”

The number one rule of clowns
Is to never cry out loud
We keep it all inside
To not upset the crowd

But this clown broke the rules
When I found her last good bye
The picture that she left
Brought a river to my eye