Из альбома: Hail to the Thief. (The Gloaming.)

I’m walking out
In a force ten gale
Birds thrown around
Bullets for hail
The roof is pulling off
By its fingernails
Your voice is rapping
On my windowsill
Yesterday’s headlines
Blown by the wind
Yesterday’s people
End up scatterbrain
Then any fool can
Easy pick a hole
I only wish I could fall in A moving target
In a firing range
Somewhere I’m not
Scatterbrain
Somewhere I’m not
Scatterbrain
Lightning fuse, power cut
Scatterbrain

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