(Music: Gordy Axt, Nick Stika, Sam Mullins  Lyrics: Sam Mullins)

The only thing we had to fear
was the end of the magic my dear
When real life comes crashing in
Like that film with Dinero, my friend.

You calculate the half life
of a person with your disease
You worry days, you worry nights
You’re seeing things that nobody sees

Anhedonia, Anhedonia
I could be your circus clown
Your jester and your mime
I could practice falling down
If you could see that laughter’s not a crime

There’s more to life than Tolstoy
and the problems of the working class
Sometimes I feel like an altar boy
at a never-ending mass.

Anhedonia, Anhedonia
I could be your circus clown
Your jester and your mime
I could practice falling down
If you could see that laughter’s not a crime

I’m watching Bugs and Daffy
When you grab the remote control
So many news shows,
So many photos of starving young children,
It must take a toll.

Anhedonia, Anhedonia
I could be your circus clown
Your jester and your mime
I could practice falling down
If you could see that laughter’s not a crime

I could be your Lenny Bruce
Your Groucho Marx and Harpo, too
I could drive away your blues
If you could see that laughter’s not a crime.