swimming pools full of gold-fish
scar the backyards from the summer
I'll see you at the cinema
yellow brooches of logo's in
sticking our feet
out of a moving car
the sun between
our toes
Alan won't you take a photo of me running
out here
she felt faster on the water
safe in her carriage of
she's caring less and less
for all the people at her
training teams you never thought
anyone would ever live to see
it's
he breathes in all the fun of gasoline
shrugs his shoulders
I recognise something about her now
that for so long I
inbetween this stop-slow motion
things are looking as good as chosen
things
when the steam from the shower slips from the glass
and
broken highway afternoons
we've got to get on the road by
three brown chairs and a yellow bookcase
the fridge-light shines off
sweet stranger
i don't know how to hate ya
our stomachs are
Instrumental
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