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A Wolf At the Door
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Apparaît dans

Crédits

INTERPRÉTATION
Colin Greenwood
Colin Greenwood
Basse
Jonny Greenwood
Jonny Greenwood
Guitare
Thom Yorke
Thom Yorke
Voix principales
Edward O'Brien
Edward O'Brien
Guitare
Philip Selway
Philip Selway
Batterie
COMPOSITION ET PAROLES
Colin Greenwood
Colin Greenwood
Paroles/Composition
Philip Selway
Philip Selway
Paroles/Composition
Thom Yorke
Thom Yorke
Paroles/Composition
Edward O'Brien
Edward O'Brien
Paroles/Composition
Jonny Greenwood
Jonny Greenwood
Paroles/Composition
PRODUCTION ET INGÉNIERIE
Graeme Stewart
Graeme Stewart
Ingénierie
Nigel Godrich
Nigel Godrich
Production
Darrell Thorp
Darrell Thorp
Ingénierie
Radiohead
Radiohead
Production

Paroles

Drag him out your window, dragging out the dead Singing I miss you, snakes and ladders Flip the lid, out pops the cracker Snaps you in the head, knifes you in the neck Kicks you in the teeth, steel toe caps Takes all your credit cards, get up, get the gunge Get the eggs, get the flan in the face The flan in the face, the flan in the face Dance you fucker, dance you fucker Don't you dare, don't you dare Don't you flan in the face Take it with the love it's given Take it with a pinch of salt Take it to the tax-man Let me back, let me back, I promise to be good Don't look in the mirror at the face you don't recognize Help me call the doctor, put me inside Put me inside, put me inside Put me inside, put me inside I keep the wolf from the door But he calls me up, calls me on the phone Tells me all the ways that he's gonna mess me up Steal all my children if I don't pay the ransom But I'll never see 'em again if I squeal to the cops Walking like giant cranes Ah, with my X-ray eyes I strip you naked In a tight little world, why are you on the list? Step forwards, who are we to complain? Investments and dealers, investments and dealers Cold wives and mistresses, cold wives and Sunday papers City boys in first class don't know they're born, they don't Someone else is going to come and clean it up Born and raised for the job, someone always does I wish you'd get up, get over, get up, get over Turn your tape off I keep the wolf from the door But he calls me up, calls me on the phone Tells me all the ways that he's gonna mess me up Steal all my children if I don't pay the ransom And I'll never see 'em again if I squeal to the cops So, I'm just gonna, ah, ah-ah
Writer(s): Jonathan Richard Guy Greenwood, Edward John O'brien, Thomas Edward Yorke, Philip James Selway, Colin Charles Greenwood Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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