(Bill Boling/Chris Deal/Rick Wayne). . Early morning and as I rise. You won't even open your eyes. You used to love this time together. Now you won't even say goodbye.
(Wayne/Morris). . (I don't want to see tomorrow,. unless I see it with you.). . Tomorrow, so they say. Will be a lovely day,. A bright new sun will suddenly break through,.
You've got a problem cause you now have my old used-to-be. And she's hurt you the same old way that she hurt me. But there's one consolation for your misery.
There's something pretty in a summer rainbow. There not just colors anymore. There's something pretty in the way the stars glow. Something I never saw before.
Listen, do you hear them drawing near,. In their search for the sinners?. Feeding on the power of our fear,. And the evil within us.. Incarnation of Satan's creation of all that we dread,.
JOURNALIST: Next morning, a crowd gathered on the Common,. hypnotized by the unscrewing of the cylinder. Two feet of shining screw projected. when, suddenly, the lid fell off!.
The Eve Of The War. . Journalist: No one would have believed, in the last years of the nineteenth century that human affairs were being watched from the timeless worlds of space. No one could have dreamed that we were being scrutinized, as someone with a microscope studies creatures that swarm and multiply in a drop of water. Few men even considered the possibility of life on other planets and yet, across the gulf of space, minds immeasurably superior to ours regarded this Earth with envious eyes, and slowly and surely, they drew their plans against us..
Dead London. . Journalist: There were a dozen dead bodies in the Euston road, their bodies softened by the black dust. All was still, houses locked and empty, shops closed but looters had helped themselves to wine and food, and outside a jewellers some gold chains and a watch were scattered on the pavement..
The Artillery Man And The Fighting Machine. . Journalist: The hammering from the pit and the pounding of guns grew louder. My fear rose at the sound of someone creeping into the house. Then I saw it was a young artilleryman, weary, streaked with blood and dirt..
[ Connie ]. There's something pretty in a summer rainbow there not just colors anymore. [ Nat ]. And there's something pretty in the way the stars flow something I never saw before.
Stolen moments are all we have together. Two hearts that must find love on borrowed time. Golden moments, the seconds that we treasure. And this forbidden pleasure be a crime.
[ Connie ]. There's something pretty in a summer rainbow there not just colors anymore. [ Nat ]. And there's something pretty in the way the stars flow something I never saw before.
Lord, I'm feelin' down, I've got no one to turn to. Boy, I need you 'round, these lonely nights are hard to get through. I'll get down on my knees, honey, if I have to.