Songwriters: Greenwood, Colin Charles; Yorke, Thomas; Greenwood, Jonathan Richa; O'brien, Edward John; Selway, Philip
Here it comes, here it comes
I can feel the hills exploding
Exploding gracefully
Burning up the freeway
Here it comes
Grass is green at the edge of the bubble
Beautiful kids into beautiful trouble
Well it seems to fall out of the sky and come down on you
Oh baby, burn
Fast Toyota, burns rubber
Useless rockers from England
Good times had by all
Just swallow your guilt and your conscience
Blue and white birds stepping hard on the pedal,
Interstate Five runs straight down the middle
And it seems to fall out of the sky and come down on you
Oh baby, burn
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