I'm in a skip divided, malfunction
I flap around and dive bomb
Frantically around your lie
??? 
I've got your voice repeating endlessly 
Could you guide me in 
Could you smother me 

I'd swoop around your head
But I never hit
I'm blinded by your daylight
Electric veins passed through me
I thought there was this big connection
I only got my name and I got this situation

I just need a number and location
But the appropriate papers, permissions
?? 
But then head into your french windows
I thought there was this big connection
They only got my name
They only got my situation

I just need my number and location
The wall keeps telling me
Hey Hey, Hey Hey
Hey Hey, The devil may
Hey Hey, Hey Hey, Hey Hey

You are a fool, you are a fool
For sticking round, for sticking 'round 

Yeah, you are a fool, you are a fool
For sticking round, for sticking round 
?? 

When you walk in a room everything disappears 
When you walk in a room it's a terrible mess
When you walk in a room I start to melt
When you walk in a room I follow you 'round
Like a dog I'm a dog,
I'm a dog, I'm a dog,
I'm a lapdog
I'm your lapdog, yeah

I just got my number and location
I just need my number and location

Skip Divided me laisse perplexe je ne sais pas trop quoi en penser. C’est du foutage de gueule à la Thom Yorke. Mais mon opinion évoluera sûrement comme pour We Suck Young Blood. Pour l’instant ça reste sans plus mais il me faudra une centaine d’écoutes pour saisir la métaphysique de celle la (je sens Thom se fendre la gueule en pensant à ses fans sur celle-là). (Mr. Blips)

Samples of Thom drawing breaths help form the percussive foundation of this dark stalker-ly declaration. Yorke's at his most conversational here, almost pub-drunk, revealing,
When you walk in a room I follow you 'round
Like a dog
I'm a dog, I'm a dog, I'm a dog
I'm a lapdog
I'm your lapdog.
Creepy. Pitchfork, 24 mai 2006

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