Songwriters: Schlesinger, Adam L.; Collingwood, Chris
Places
We move in and out of watching
Faces
Float around the hotel 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 the word for our
Tombstones
So that everyone will know
When they're out one afternoon
Stop to read the stones
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