I get home from work
And you're still standing
In your dressing gown
Well, what am I to do?I know all the things
Around your head
And what they do to youWhat are we coming to?
What are we gonna do?Blame it on the black star
Blame it on the falling sky
Blame it on the satellite
That beams me homeThe troubled words
Of a troubled mind
I try to understand
What is eating youI try to stay awake
But it's 58 hours since
That I last slept with youWhat are we coming to?
I just don't know anymoreBlame it on the black star
Blame it on the falling sky
Blame it on the satellite
That beams me homeI get on the train
And I just stand about
Now that I don't think of youI keep falling over
I keep passing out
When I see a face like youWhat am I coming to?
I'm gonna melt downBlame it on the black star
Blame it on the falling sky
Blame it on the satellite
That beams me homeTonight this is killing me
Tonight this is killing me
Composição: Colin Greenwood / Ed O'Brien / Jonny Greenwood / Phil Selway / Thom Yorke.
