All those creepy little places that I have been;
does it really ever end?
I traded all my nepenthe in
and learned the hard way
that good people never win.
I listened to the fiddle player in the field,
and sold my soul for a fifth of gin.
Oh come one, come all;
the show is about to begin.
The fractured heart is going to start
to try and begin to mend.
The small children there,
they’re laughing now.
Can I smile?
Maybe I’ve forgotten how.
Oh come one,
come all to our stall.
It’s time to start the Kurivaim ball.