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In a dead man's sleeves
You can feel the sea
Coursing round your hairs
Even though you're not even there
Wearing dead man's pants
You can step through each dance
On your ways to work
His partner with her cheek upon your shirt
In a dead man's clothes
In a dead man's clothes
Every dead man's tie
Is a Bridge of Sighs
The knot against your throat
Never lies upon the creases of its ghost
A dead man's shoes
Have heard every excuse
They don't take to shine
They step in and out of time despite of you
In a dead man's clothes
In a dead man's clothes
The dead man's gloves
Press upon your palms
The hands of all his children
Waiting with him in the rain and counting cars
In a dead man's clothes
All dressed-up for the show
Your fingers finding pockets
And your shoulders finding arcs they've never known
In a dead man's clothes
All the ceilings never seem as low
In a dead man's clothes
All the figures in the room begin to glow
In a dead man's clothes
In a dead man's clothes
