(McPherson/Bedford)



Transcribed by ir.drs. Ben Jos Walbeehm (Walbeehm@fsw.ruu.nl)

with Simon Roberts (roberts@airtime.co.uk)

Date of last revision: March 04, 1996.



Arlington house, address: no fixed abode

An old man in a three-piece suit sits in the road

He stares across the water, he sees right through the lock

But on and up like outstretched hands

His mumbled words, his fumbled words, mock



Further down, a photo booth, a million plastic bags

And an old woman filling out a million baggage tags

But when she gets thrown out, three bags at a time

She spies the old chap in the road to share her bags with

She has bags of time



Surrounded by his past, on a short white line

He sits while cars pass either side, takes his time

Trying to remember one better day

A while ago when people stopped to hear him say



Walking round you sometimes hear the sunshine

Beating down in time with the rhythm of your shoes



Now she has walked enough through rainy town

She rests her bag against his and sits down

She's trying to remember one better day

A while ago when people stopped to hear her say



Walking round you sometimes hear the sunshine

Beating down in time with the rhythm of your shoes

Walking round you sometimes hear the sunshine

Beating down in time with the rhythm of your shoes

The feeling of arriving when you've nothing left to lose



Walking round you sometimes hear the sunshine

Beating down in time with the rhythm of your shoes

The feeling of arriving when you've nothing left to lose