| Song | Fleeting Moments |
| Artist | Pocketbooks |
| Album | Rough Trade Shops - Indiepop '09 |
| 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 kills 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… |
| Hanging on for someone is quite addictive | |
| When you gaze from highrise 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 kills 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 |