Suit Of Dreams

I was looking for a man
I'd made him up a suit
I hung it in my cupboard,
between my dresses, above my boots.

It had this perfect shape I like
was well tailored and good seams
It had a tag at the collar which read:
The Man Of My Dreams.

I won't describe this suit to you
we all have one, you know yours well
the size, the shape, material
the way it hangs, its smell.
Well there mine hung
day in, day out
day in and out again
I'd take it out sometimes, but quickly thrust it back within
As much as I wanted it to come alive
I was scared to break it in.

And girls, and guys I suppose you'll know too
You'd take it out occassionally
this most precious of suits
and hand it to someone, thinking:
Here, maybe you?
Someone nice, a person
big.. small ... fat... thin
nice looking hair.. the right sort of chin..
Likes movies, or boardgames,
good family, nice car
no obvious misgivings that you've seen so far
So here, think I'll give you a spin in my suit!
Give the outfit a chance!
We could both have a hoot!

And so over each shoulder
tugged down by each cuff
you watch them slide in
praying, don't be too rough
(because you can't afford damage
there's no tailor for love)
And maybe the widths good
the leg length, the zip
But under the arm
you can see a small rip
We try hard not to notice
the tear at the hem
or feel to let down when the elbows wear thin.
But sooner or later
and often too late
We must come to our senses and do what we most hate:
Prise that suit off them,
take our hope back
and put that worn suit
right back on the rack
with it's new dents and creases
and stains on the back
sad, and not new
hopeless and cracked.
And face facts!
Wasn't him.
I was wrong.
A mistake.
Thanks for your effort, but the suit didn't take.
And we SWEAR thats the last time
the last failed attempt
you'll be more careful next time to whom your suit will be lent.

Well my suit, my good one
I love above all
Came right out of the cupboard
without second thought
I don't know which moment
the first time we met,
but sometime that night
my suit of dreams got unpacked
And I wrapped it around you that night as you slept
I had my suspicians and needed to check...

And you can tell me now
what next I will say
Yes.
It fit you.
In every spectacular way
It was long enough
wide enough
good in the waist
the colour, the sleevelength
were all to your taste
and it FIT you
it MADE you
It was perfectly matched.
You wore my suit wonderfully
none of it clashed.
And i sat back and quietly smiled to myself.
i could see, by the fit, it could be noone else.
And just as i nestled down full with content
The most horrible thing that could happen came next:

You undid the buttons..
shrugged of the jacket..
You took off the trousers
and HANDED IT BACK!
Saying: HEre, it felt good, but I've got to make tracks.

Because you, my good man, just sold your old suit and you're not much of a suit wearing man anyway and mine really was the nicest suit you'd ever seen but that still couldn't sway you because you're just going to go bare backed for an indeterminant amount of time now, nice to know you but
THATS THAT

And gave my suit back.

Do you know,
I've been putting off having it cleaned?
I was hoping, secretly, things could still be redeemed.
But four weeks of that shit and i've finally got it
it's not you in my suit, not me in your pocket.

So after I hung up the phone to you tonight
I took one last big breath of the smell of the shirt
and chucked the whole thing in the wash on 'heavy duty dirt'
I can just hear the spin cycle doing it's rounds.

And then when i've rung it out, hung it to dry
got it down, patched it up, given it an iron
I'm putting that suit in a suitcase, what else!?
And i'm setting that suit case adrift on the sea
and the next guy, the best guy, the right guy for me
Can just keep on his flipflops and wear his old jeans
And he won't be compared to impossible dreams
Or have to fit perfectly
into tales impossibly tall
He'll just fit me, somehow, and thats all.