(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