In the early twilight the electric lights are just starting to blink on, blink off,
Blinking now flashing, throbbing with the pounding of the music and the crowd.

This is the ticket, this is the ticket line.
This is the way in through the narrow gate, out through the wide.

The scent on the wind—hot dogs and cotton candy and stale beer on stale breath
And the carnies cry out as I walk down the thoroughfare, as I wade though the people
As I move though the lights and the music and the odors on the air
I recall fairs and festivals and carnivals before and they echo like the game man
“Hey! Baby Doll! Baby Doll! Baby Doll! Hey! Baby Doll!
Hey! Teddy Bear! Hey! Teddy Bear! Teddy Bear!”
And when you meet his eyes he’ll say, “Hey, Baby Doll, I’ll give it to you hit or miss.”
But don’t believe him, you’ll always miss.

You’ll always miss.