run home, run home

now it is time to run home, run home,
where the air is dry and the couch is warm;
now it is time to run home, run home,
from out of the reach of harm.

in the fields by the river he played, he played,
near the circus tents across the way;
with wild abandon, great plans were made
to join with them one day.

for a born death defier like him, like him
would feel at home on the high trapeze;
yes a born death defier like him, like him,
would do all that with ease.

but now it is time to run home, run home,
where the air is dry and the couch is warm;
now it is time to run home, run home,
from out of the reach of harm.

or maybe with lions he’d work, he’d work
as the crowds looked on in breathless fear —
maybe with lions he’d work, he’d work,
as their sharpened claws drew nearer —

or high on a tightrope he’d walk, he’d walk,
the highest one anyone had seen yet;
yes, high on a tightrope he’d walk, he’d walk
and he’d never use a net.

for boys in the circus do well these days,
he thinks he read it sometime, somewhere –
though the people look kind of scary, and
a few did stop to stare —

but now it is time to run home, run home,
where the air is dry and the couch is warm;
now it is time to run home, run home,
from out of the reach of harm.

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