Places

Places, We move in and out of Watching faces Float around the motel lobby Like fishes They're all blowing air We know it must mean something But we just stare We stood On Primrose Hill like statues We were so good Walked along the locks And into Camden Tried on silver shoes And orange plastic jackets Places, We move in and out of Fast as hail stones Make jokes Hey, isn't that the word For our tombstones So that everyone will know When they're out one afternoon And they stop to read the stones