As the light floods out from the bathroom and the moon slips under the door  you're left there alone and idly wondering who designed that jacket she wore
and the sirens wail down in Shoreditch like they've wailed so many times before
and you're still left alone and wondering
who designed that jacket she wore,
it's time to move on
time to move on

and so you move on out to the islands,
build a hut from the driftwood you find
then
line the floor with coconut matting and
the memories dragged out from your mind,
and you're still wondering
like
you've wondered before,
who was it designed the jacket,
that she wore as she left through the door.