I saw teenage girls like gaudy moths a classroom's shabby butterflies
Flirt in the glow of stranded telephone boxes
Planning white lace weddings from smeared hearts
And token proclamations, rolled from stolen lipsticks
Across the razored webs of glass
Sharing cigarettes with experience with her giggling
Jealous confidantes, she faithfully traces his name
With quick bitten fingers
Through the tears of condensation that'll cry through the night
As the glancing headlights of the last bus kiss adolescence goodbye
Marillion, Warm Wet Circles, Album: Clutching AT Straws