Dari

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Colin Greenwood
Colin Greenwood
Bass
Jonny Greenwood
Jonny Greenwood
Guitar
Thom Yorke
Thom Yorke
Lead Vocals
Edward O'Brien
Edward O'Brien
Guitar
Philip Selway
Philip Selway
Drums
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Colin Greenwood
Colin Greenwood
Songwriter
Philip Selway
Philip Selway
Songwriter
Thom Yorke
Thom Yorke
Songwriter
Edward O'Brien
Edward O'Brien
Songwriter
Jonny Greenwood
Jonny Greenwood
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Graeme Stewart
Graeme Stewart
Engineer
Nigel Godrich
Nigel Godrich
Producer
Darrell Thorp
Darrell Thorp
Engineer
Radiohead
Radiohead
Producer

Lirik

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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