The suit did all the talking. The body inside just smiled
The shoes did all the walking. His feet followed like a child
The suit could sell to anyone. The suit could take the lead
And he just sat inside it waiting to be freed
The suit it ate him like a crocodile
The suit it owned him like and alien reptile
He was no Houdini, there was no escape route
He was the prisoner of the suit
And the people seemed to like him, although his eyes had died.
And he tried to tell the truth but the suit was woven out of lies
One morning at the station a bird sang in his ear.
It said run, run, run you son of a gun. It was all that he could hear.
He made himself a fire. Put the suit upon the flame
He saw himself reflected in the ashes of his shame.
He walked naked to his office, wearing flowers in his hair
He smiled at all his colleagues then disappeared into thin air
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