Homburg

(brooker / reid)* Your multilingual business friend Has packed her bags and fled Leaving only ash-filled ashtrays And the lipsticked unmade bed The mirror on reflection Has climbed back upon the wall For the floor she found descended And the ceiling was too tall Your trouser cuffs are dirty And your shoes are laced up wrong You'd better take off your homburg 'cos your overcoat is too long The town clock in the market square Stands waiting for the hour When it's hands they both turn backwards And on meeting will devour Both themselves and also any fool Who dares to tell the time And the sun and moon will shatter And the signposts cease to sign