Look at the people passing by me,
They all look so lonely like they long to be free.
And with every step in this reflective room
where the glass mirrors enhance your foreshadowed doom,
the innocent unknowingly put their lives in the hands
of those evil carnie folks who dress to amaze.

The fat man-lady sings at the top of its lungs,
while the young boy with four opposable thumbs
cracks open a jar with the sheer strength of his tongue.
They are freaks of the world, but really is it true?
Did all of them have something to do
the night of the murder of Elizabeth Brown
the princess who could never really quite frown?

Did the small, impish girl or the Neanderthal thing
take a spiked bat and proceed to swing
at the princess’ head till it smashed in and splattered?
The jagged shattered skull and the gooey grey matter
that was once her brain now spread like jelly
and lay strewn all about the shirtless Neanderthal’s belly.

Is this what happened is this the truth?
Because you know that the blood they found on her tooth
matched not the Neanderthal nor the imp girl.
Instead it matched the blood of the man-eating squirrel.

So what happened here, ye carnie people?
Do you have something to confess
under the roof of the steeple
where anyone who listens close enough
can call the cops and have you cuffed?
I know the man-eating squirrel is seemingly scary,
but under the entire disguise he puts on,
he is not so much hairy,
but rather a man that no one really knows,
except you few carnie folk who travel to his shows.
And no one would really miss this man,
even if he was hit over the head and died under that pan.
So tell me you carnie folk, who did it?
Who here is going to forfeit?
I will come back to the case of Miss Brown later on
when it seems like you guys would make it out to be fun.