The cold has past the sun, it's shining.
We're digging holes,
So the aliens have landed
They'll be moving through you and
when all you want to do is rock
but you don’t
My friends just called back home,
lost themselves in a America,
found
If this gets me home then i'll be yours
Last plane
All goodbyes disappeared,
when I first set my eyes on you,
I
Black the sun
Oh no, look at what we done
Go away,
When you feel as though your falling
Every fear you
watch them motor again
we can race and will bend
you might
like morning will keep us
locked in our arms
roses for weepers
not
On my hands, sitting on half a chance,
waiting for good
You found a home inside a heart
And lost it all
Walking south along my mouth
Through the heart that's hard to
She sits at table number thirty-five,
the only one of us
the same old loose lipped cannon
speaks for you today
alone without
» More on Alex Lloyd