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THE FITTING OF THE SUIT
THE FITTING OF THE SUIT
(T. Beechey)
It seems that the sunlight
Is a faded memory
You try to put up a good fight
But how can you when you see
Nothing but the shadows
Of a misdirected route?
And no one ever knows
Till the fitting of the suit
There used to be a reason
But somewhere it got mislaid
As season turns to season
But it's all just a charade
Whose beginnings are the end
Of a dream that's taken root
And no one comprehends
Till the fitting of the suit
The fitting of the suit
The end of what's begun
Even time can't dilute
What's already been done
You walk amongst the jumbles
Of what used to be your home
All you hear are mumbles
And no matter where you roam
You're confronted with the distance
In the words of dispute
And no one ever listens
Till the fitting of the suit
But it no longer matters
From one day to the next
As you shuffle through the tatters
Of a life in retrospect
In amongst the peaks and plunders
A voice has fallen mute
And no one ever wonders
Till the fitting of the suit
The fitting of the suit
There's nowhere left to run
And nothing to refute
Once you take away the fun
How can you understand
When there's no way to explain?
None of this was planned
Yet it's chiseled in the grain
So the sunlight never rises
And the trees stop bearing fruit
And no one realizes
Till the fitting of the suit
