Analyse - Thom Yorke

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

They 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