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 Analyse Analyse