The Fair

Who wouldn’t love the fair
With the clowns, and their big red hair
They’re not here to scare
It’s not like They’re a bear
Leading you to their lair
It just a trip to the fair
And I have no care
For thoughts to scare
In my head
I must put to bed
With clowns and funny faces
While I run to different places
Seeing men holding different cases
I wonder what kinda place this is
Not seeing a familiar face
During a chase
Firmly gripping my mace
As I trip over my shoelaces
Falling onto my face
Making a man lose his case
As we clench into a romantic embrace
It was my man
Dressed in a can
Smelling of expired spam
I had come to deliver his lamb
I had cooked last night
After our fight
We felt so light
And he looked so bright
Not dressed in red hair
With no care
We retreated into his lair
As I lay on his chest hair
Until he left to the fair
As I sat on the chair
With a blank stare