The Search (Finders Keepers) - Burn The Sun

The cold air stings my face,
As I stand alone in solitude
I’ve never felt so abandoned,
But it’s liberating all the same.
You’re not here
But I can still hear the whispers.

Rain falls down like bullets,
Forcing me to the dust.
I hear your cries amid the raindrops,
Telling me to get back up.
December at the seaside.

Memories come flooding back,
Wave after wave they flow,
Unrelenting like the tempest,
Taking sandcastles and stones.
The sharp wind,
Pierces like a titan’s blade.

I hear the echo of your voice,
Singing from the granite cliffs
I’m searching in the sandbanks,
For memories that I can keep.

I’ll stand alone on this cold night,
It’s the only place I can feel you.
December at the seaside.

Written By David Wigglesworth & Chris Yeoman

Boy with the chemicals #2

Ran for cover in the pouring rain,
You pressed up close like we wouldn't get this night back again.
"But we will, every single time"
Said the boy with the chemicals,
To the girl who's dressed like she could kill.

Tonight's the night…

With mascara running down your face,
You kissed me hard like you wouldn't get the chance ever again.
"But we will, anytime you want to."
Said the boy with the chemicals,
To the girl who moves like she's a model.

Tonight's the night…

Bass and drums are thumping in the background,
Too far away to hear the words,
The club's going on without us…
We're going on without them.

We're going on without them.

Written By Chris Yeoman

Devil In The Details (Burn The Sun)

I met a stranger just the other night,
The bar was dark and empty,
He lined the shots up on the table
We talked and laughed, the devil was friendly.
He said he’d get me anything I wanted,
The suggestions were awfully tempting.
“Sign on the line now blurring.”

Be sure to read the small print cloaked in disguise
Don’t sign your name anywhere…
Before your hands are tied.

I met a wise old friend last night,
The room was bright and soothing,
I cried as I listened to him speaking,
The things he said, well… it wasn’t easy.
“You won’t find painkillers in hell”.

Just make sure you read the small print
Before you take the sale,
The devil’s in the details,
You won’t find painkillers in hell.

And even if, you’re heart’s twenty below,
You’ll be consumed by the temperature,
You’ll miss the times you were in control.

Get ready for the heart burn…
There’s no painkillers in hell.

Written By David Wigglesworth & Chris Yeoman

Patchwork Fields

The mood turns like rotating blades,
Cutting the air with awful sounds,
The machines are getting closer,
The black cross is bearing down…

Like a shadow forced out the sun,
The glint of metal shines like silver
In the distance the engines roar,
As the lions rise up to meet them.

The summer breeze smells of cordite,
The ground is shaking every night,
Sacrifices are soon forgotten, evaporating
Like smoke trails in the sky.

You're photo is all I have now,
To get me through another fight,
My black and white glamour girl,
A sight for sore, tired eyes.

The world spins with blinding speed,
The flash of tracer passes by,
Thank God for the English Channel,
For hearts not afraid to die.

Young and few, bodies fall,
Spirits ascend like angels,
The patchwork fields are bloodied
Lives are black with exhaust fumes.

Written By Chris Yeoman

Blue (Burn The Sun)

Dial the numbers, call the emergencies,
The sky is blue, its emptiness crying out for me.
Is this just tears blurring out reality?
A heart made of pieces from years in obscurity.

I need help my friends…
Find me a collector of broken hearts.
There's a shoemaker back home,
He should know how to sow me back together.

Why does the sky stay blue even when the sun's out?
It's all I ever see and I'm losing my mind now.
I've lost every colour and every desire (to even look anymore.)
Closing my eyes to hide what I've become,
Dark blue engulfs me, leaving me screaming inside.

Please hand me a rose,
We'll make a ring and run around in circles,
Then maybe I'll fall dead…

Is it just me? The sky bleeds blue,
Full of loneliness, but I can't stop looking….
I can't stop looking up.

Let's all play dead.

Written by David Wigglesworth & Chris Yeoman

The Black Plague Is Back By Popular Demand

Existence is redundant, it's a comatosed static
An endless night tapping keys
You know what I mean…
We hold hands; go to church
Whisper in the back row
Do you wanna go to your grave wondering?
What it's like to clash teeth
Rubber on skin, is sex, without the mess
An Asian girl, once asked me my blood type?
I don't know for sure, but I think I'm B
Regardless, my ideals got tangled, in her hair
And it's time for me to get emotronic
Zombie movies got me to thinking
Even the living dead, have there share of problems
There's a lucky penny on the bathroom floor
But nobody dare pick it up…
Disappointment is my common law
We've been together twenty-one years now
It's a burden to breath
Bubble wrap fetish got the best of me (bang bang your dead)
1985 was a bad year for style
I prayed for the cure, but I got a flock of seagulls
Follow suite, go to the beach
Bury your head in the sand
La la la said the little boy
With his fingers in his ears.

Written By Vincent White

E-motive

She twists her strawberry hair,
And she pouts those thirsty lips,
The lights make her dizzy as
She moves into his hips…
She smiles a perfect smile,
But to me she looks fragmented,
Like the women Picasso painted
Illogical and plastic.
So get up from your seats,
Don't go back until you're satisfied,
You're seventeen now,
Dance to every song tonight.
She acts like her typecast,
But we're all doing our parts,
She walks away with the boys,
To ride in speeding cars.
Are you having fun right now?
Tomorrow will tell for sure,
I'm sleeping on the front lawn,
I'll wait for you…
I'll wait for you some more.
You're seventeen now,
You don't need a motive.
You're seventeen now,
You don't need a conscience.

Written by Chris Yeoman

War drums (Burn The Sun)

The war is raging all around me, weary and battle torn,
The armies of the dark are surrounding, lusting to destroy.

Fallen casualties hang their heads low, spitting blood
Onto the battlefields. Broken bodies spill their guts out,
Painting a masterpiece for the souls below.

My heart beats like war drums exploding in the distance,
They're screaming for us to survive, to fight, to die.

The darkness is taunting my defeat; my weakness begs me to retreat,
The sun burns down on my face, telling me that light prevails,
So ignite the torches and flaming arrows, let's set this black
Night ablaze. Drown me in gasoline, unleash the fire burning inside.

Armed with torches and flaming arrows, let's set this sky ablaze,
To end a war we didn't start, we'll have to be killers tonight!
Ascend like arrows; watch them fall like pretty stars.
Watch the bright lights blind the dark eyes.
Drown me in gasoline, feed the fire growing inside.

Written By David Wigglesworth & Chris Yeoman

Untitled (Burn The Sun)

She looks so beautiful tonight, stretching for miles without end,
She's enchanting like a vision, contently kissing a sunburst sky.
Hands move like waves on the shoreline, getting closer all the time…
Mesmerising, I could stay forever, calling my name, calling my name.
The angels dance on her back, sparkling with warmth and security,
Her calming voice is like a whispered breeze telling me it won't turn on me.

Captivating, I could stay forever, calling my name, I'll answer the same
(Every time…)

When you wash over me like water on dry land,
Take notice of the names and shapes etched into the sand.
I wrote them like a lover, so you'd remember me,
Before you turned your shoulder, before you fell asleep.
…
Lungs are filled with violence, I'm drowning as you speak,
You're temper has become you, taking endlessly! (You fall!)
Searchlights replace sunsets, the lines have all gone dead,
Just like the lines you gave and all the lies you've said.
Crashing over me…my bodies torn like clothes on red light district floors.
Intently killing me…you've left me choking in the storm.
"I'll tie you to the ocean bed and make you say my name…
Like the one you've called a thousand times, just to desecrate".

Searchlights replace sunsets…
I hear you calling my name
Searchlights replace sunsets…
She's singing out my name
Searchlights replace sunsets…
But no one's listening…
She took us all.

Written by David Wigglesworth & Chris Yeoman