martedì 10 febbraio 2009

Analyse - Thom Yorke



A self-fulfilling prophecy of endless possibility
You roll in reams across the street
In algebra, in algebra

The fences that you cannot climb
The sentences that do not rhyme
In all that you can ever change
The one you're looking for


It gets you down
It gets you down


There's no spark
No light in the dark


It gets you down
It gets you down


You traveled far
What have you found
That there's no time
There's no time
To analyse
To think things through
To make sense

Like cows in the city,
they never looked so pretty
By power carts and blackouts
Sleeping like babies


It gets you down
It gets you down
You're just playing a part
You're just playing a part


You're playing a part
Playing a part


And there's no time
There's no time
To analyse

AnalyseAnalyse

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