Thom Yorke Analyse

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A self-fulfilling prophecy
Of endless possibility
In rolling reams across a screen
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 candles in the city,
You never looked so pretty
By power cuts 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
Analyse
Analyse
Analyse.