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