I’m a very vicious critic of myself.
One sweet world Around this star is spinning One sweet world And in her breath I’m swimming And here we will rest in peace.
Lying on the roof counting the stars that fill the sky I wonder if Someone in the heavens looking back down on me I’ll never know So much space to believe.
When I step into the light My arms are open wide When I step into the light My eyes searching wildly.
First time I kissed you, I lost my legs.
I see you young and soft oh little baby Little feet, little hands, little baby One year of crying and the words creep up inside Creep into your mind So much to say.
I go back to South Africa at least once a year, sometimes twice, and usually for a month. And probably, I’m guessing, I’ll spend more time back there as I get older.
Oh look at how she listens She says nothing of what she thinks She just goes stumbling through her memories Staring out on to Grey Street.
Part of me wishes some of the more obsessive fans would spend a fraction of the time they spend studying the band.
Keep it locked up inside Don’t talk about it Talk about the weather Can’t see the light.
You and me have a better time than most can dream of, better than the best.
In your eyes, I see what’s on my mind.
I was just wondering if you’d come along to hold up my head when my head won’t hold on.
Yorke’s lyrics make me want to give up. I could never in my wildest dreams find something as beautiful as they find for a single song – let alone album after album.
I say my hell is the closet I’m stuck inside.
What in the world would I sing for if I had it all?
Well, I’ve been in a few car wrecks.
How we can stay faithful to the people that have supported us from the beginning is a thought in my mind. I always want to keep that part of it alive.
The space between the tears we cry is the laughter that keeps us coming back for more...
I fall so hard inside the idea of you.
Gravedigger, when you dig my grave, could you make it shallow so that I can feel the rain.