The sirens all sound. People get underground. But not the last clown. he refuses to be subterranean. Because his nose is still red, and there're more jokes to be said. Plus his fish haven't been fed Since McDonalds went conservative vegetarian. Now he wanders the wastelands. Concerned for his sweat glands. He yearns to wash free his hands. Lest a child, in jest, call him stinky. Alls he finds is orange water, but with no soap he shant bother. As the weather grows hotter. (He thinks) Goddamn my car's airless & dinky. Soon he finds a safe haven. With a scrub he's been cravin'. There's even an Albino raven. That'll clean out your mouth for a dollar. At night, the town folk emerge. To mate, binge, then purge. Giving this clown an old urge. To strip down to his leather & collar. As the guilt makes him ask For his own used Ass-Mask Which they give'm, with task. To walk on his hands & not laugh, eternally.