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 its 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


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