Dead Men's Clothes

Hiding in my bedroom in summer that's good enough for me
My friend the mirror wardrobe has the means to set me free
And no one can describe for me
The essence of this luxury
I wear, you wear
We wear dead men's clothes

Hiding in the basement in winter that's good enough for me
My dandy summer wardrobe has the means to set me free
And no one can explain to me
This need for ancient finery
I wear you wear we wear dead men's clothes

Oh how I wish that my tailoring was fashionable
Congenial and accepted by the world
Instead I hide in murky basementslurking in the dark
And I inhale the musty odours of the dead

Dining all alone in splendour that's good enough for me
My literary friends are here to keep me company
So George and Harris eat their fill, and Mr Polly pays the bill
I wear, they wear, we wear dead men's clothes

Oh how I wish that the odour of my wardrobe
Did not bar me from polite society
Instead of endless conversations with myself
And the silent approval of the grave

Walking down the streets in summer that's good enough for me
Arm in arm we'll face the world in all it's jealousy
And people still in bed at home
Will wish they had lives of their own
I wear – you wear – we wear dead men's clothes
I wear – you wear-we wear dead men's clothes

I wear – you wear – we wear – they fear
I wear – you wear – they wish they wore
I wear – you wear – we wear dead men's clothes!