Arlington House, address:no fixed abode
An old man in a three-piece suit sits in the road
He stares across the water, sees right through the lock
But on and up like outstretched hands, his mumbled words, his fumbled words
They mock

 Further down the 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 her
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 bags 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

 Walking round you sometimes hear the sunshine
Beating down in time with the rhythm of your shoes