Topsy Turvy

Palm prints on the soda stream
Pennies priceless, burn through the seems
Memorising numbers I'll never call
From business cards pinned on a meeting room wall

Taschen books as decoration
Art graduates on the phones
The ego on me, to write a word
Clothed and fed at the end of the world

Would you rather be the punchline in a stranger's inside joke or the asshole in another stranger's story?
Or trying to see black fields through your own reflected face
On your third train of the day, delayed and running hours late?

Too frozen by fear to leave your seat
Ringing in your ears, glitter at your feet
It's another way for the days to tear apart
Stunted malaise, wait to start

Would you like to be a simple man? Hold simple pleasures in your simple hand?
Would you like to start a wedding band, singing simple covers of Steely Dan?

I've been waiting for you to show me something new
But I've lost my touch for falling in love