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Auguste
Steve Skaith / Mike Jones
Text
Brake out a pair of long soled shoes
Paint my face in white and blues
Roll me in the sawdust
Call me Auguste
Hire me as a hot wire act
Pass up the note that says I’m sacked
Shout it if you must
Call me Auguste
Crack the whip and bring me to my senses
I’ll take a tumble and wait to fall
But if you call, if you call at all
Please talk in present tenses
Once I decked an Indian clown
Burnt my hand on a cigarette stub
Maybe it got wanderlust
Call me Auguste
Hold the ropes of the big, big, top
Keep on holding and never stop
It’s something you can trust
Call me Auguste
Crack the whip and bring me to my senses
So long to peers in the Pierrots
I will quit, I will quit the shows
And hang on to all my pretences
You will always spot the troubled clown
When the circus comes to town
Eyes as red as rust
Call me Auguste
Call me Auguste
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