the breath of the morning. i keep forgetting the smell of the warm summer air
i live in a town where you can't smell a thing, you watch your feet for cracks in the pavement.
up above aliens hover making home movies for the folks back home
of all these weird creatures that lock up spirits, drill holes in themselves and live for their secrets.
they're all up-tight.
i wish that they'd swoop down in a country lane, late at night when i'm driving
take me on board their beautiful ship, show me the world as i'd love to see it
i'd tell all my friends but they'd never beleive me, the'd think that i've finally lost it completely
i'd show them the stars an the meaning of life
they'd shut me away
but i'd be alright. im just up-tight.