A self-fulfilling prophecy of endless possibilty
You're born and raised 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 travel far
What have you found
That there's no time
There's no time
To analyze
To think things through
To make sense

Like cows in the city
They never looked so pretty
Bad 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
That there's no time
There's no time
To analyze
Analyze
Analyze

Copyright: Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): Thomas Edward Yorke