The breath of the morning I keep forgetting. The smell of the warm summer air. I live in a town where you can't smell a thing, you watch your feet for cracks in the pavement. Up above aliens hover making home movies for the folks back home, of all these weird creatures who lock up their spirits, drill holes in themselves and live for their secrets. They're all uptight, uptight, uptight, uptight, uptight, uptight. I wish that they'd sweep down in a country lane, late at night when I'm driving. Take me on board their beautiful ship, show me the world as I'd love to see it. I'd tell all my friends but they'd never believe me, They'd think that I'd finally lost it completely. I'd show them the stars and the meaning of life. They'd shut me away. But I'd be alright, alright, I'd be alright, I'm alright. I'm just uptight, uptight, uptight, uptight, uptight, uptight, uptight, uptight, uptight.
Radiohead. ok computer.
Às vezes os génios surgem assim. Em pacotinhos de dois ou três minutos.
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