I'm not a good Ringleader

I guess I'm not as good of a ringleader as I thought,
Circus tent filled with too many shots.
Because of broken down cannons and missed launches,
The roses never thrown out in bunches.
I stand at attention my whip in hand,
Ready to calm down my routy circus clan.
But my whip has snapped,
Right down the middle the leather has cracked.
I look around ready to yell,
To tell my routy circus clan to go to hell.
But the tent has caught fire smoke pouring out,
The bearded women runs and shouths.
Tight rope walkers One Two and Three,
Dnagle in the air above a firey sea.
All the animlas one by one,
Start to feel the heat of a blazing sun.
I just stand and watch my tent burn down,
What will all my circus clows do now?
This was all they had and it's about to burn,
But from all of this there is a lesson I've learned.
I can't always be here for the ones that need me,
Sometimes everyone needs to let me be.
And from the burning tent I walk away,
I can't handle this circus not for another day.
I look over my shoulder to my burning tent,
And my final goodbye sent through my eyes.
I turn back around and walk away from the flames,
And I'm sorry to say but I'm tired of these games.