High Ceilings

The ceilings are too high here
The paint is very dry
Hundreds, thousands have passed through
Others linger in the canvas
Or by the coffee pots

I hear them talk in alien tones
Dulcet, after-dinner style

I won't stay here much longer
(It's not really my cup of tea)
Besides, these colours are not mine.

Where are we suddenly?
Back a bit, sir, just a bit.
Nothing's changed and yet it seems
The ceiling's higher than before.