"The breath of the morning, I keep forgetting the smell of warm summer air. I live in a town where you can't smell a thing... You watch your feet, the cracks in the paviment.
Up above aliens hover, making home movies for the folks back home. -A world for creatures who lock up their spirits, draw holes in them selves and live for their secrets-.
I wish that they'd sweep down in the country lane, late at night while I'm driving. Take me abord their beatiful ship, show me the world as I'd love to see it... I'd tell all my friends, but they'd never believe me, they'd think that I've finally lost it completely. I'd show them the stars and the meaning of live... They'd shut me away, but I'd be all right."
We're all up tight... up tight
Subterranean Home Sick Alien, Radiohead
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