Hanging on for someone is quite addictive When you gaze from high-rise windows At the lights beyond the ring road and the social club One girl's perfection is another's expectation And the pureness of a moment always overstays its welcome If I linger too long I'm romantic by design I see joy within the syntax of a shop sign Or a bus stop conversation in a west country town I feel overwhelmed sometimes by all the rational types Who just dismiss coincidence and instinct and perception As a trick of the mind It's always fleeting, like snapshots or flashbacks and Unwritten endings and the promises wrapped up inside And I'm all potential, and potential is the spark behind my eyes
Behind my eyes I'm forensic by design I'm the sort who sees a magic trick Then k**s himself to find out how it's done And then I'm always let down I'm all details and facts How can I sleep when there's comparisons and speculation, Talking heads, deliberations haunting me Fleeting moments are insomnia for the curious and Untied endings are the curse of inquisitive minds And so what's potential, When potential might be all you ever know? I don't know Oh the summer, it drags its heels And then for every fleeting moment There's a fortnight left to wonder if it happened at all…