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 as 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 stop to read the stones