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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Talking Heads
Talking Heads
Performer
Chris Frantz
Chris Frantz
Drums
David Byrne
David Byrne
Vocals
Jerry Harrison
Jerry Harrison
Keyboards
Tina Weymouth
Tina Weymouth
Bass Guitar
David Van Tieghem
David Van Tieghem
Percussion
Raphael Dejesus
Raphael Dejesus
Percussion
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
David Byrne
David Byrne
Songwriter
Tina Weymouth
Tina Weymouth
Composer
Christopher Frantz
Christopher Frantz
Composer
Jerry Harrison
Jerry Harrison
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Talking Heads
Talking Heads
Producer
Chris Frantz
Chris Frantz
Producer
David Byrne
David Byrne
Producer
Jerry Harrison
Jerry Harrison
Producer
Tina Weymouth
Tina Weymouth
Producer
John Convertino
John Convertino
Assistant Engineer
Lance Quinn
Lance Quinn
Producer
Butch Jones
Butch Jones
Recording Engineer

Lyrics

Fooled around enough with numbers
Let's not be ourselves today
Is it my imagination?
Is it just someone's face?
Pleasantly out of proportion
It's hard to hold on to the ground
Now I didn't come to run, and this is everything
And gravity lets you down
And I get wild, wising up
I just can't let go
I get wild when I get ready
And I can hardly talk
Living lights, special lights
Yellow turns to blue
And I get wild, it's automatic
And I can hardly move
Go ahead and pull the curtains
Check to see if I'm still here
Let me lose my perspective
For something worth waiting for
Somewhere in South Carolina
And gravity don't mean a thing
And all around the world, each and everyone
Playing with a heart of steel
I get up, climbing out
How did I get home?
I'll survive the situation
Somebody shut the door
Beautiful, beautiful
Climbing up the wall
And I get by on automatic
No surprise at all
No one here can recognize you
Here is everything that you like
Feelings without explanations
Some things are hard to describe
The sound of a cigarette burning
A place there where everything spins
And the sound inside your mind is playing all the time
You're playing with a heart of steel
And I get wild, wising up
I just can't let go
I get wild when I get ready
I can hardly talk
Red and white, black to gold
Yellow turns to blue
And I get wild, it's automatic
And I can hardly move
And I get up, pushing up
How did I get home?
I'll survive the situation
Somebody shut the door
Shut the door, shut the door
Climbing up the wall
I get by-y-y-y on automatic
No surprise at all
Written by: Chris Frantz, David Byrne, Jerry Harrison, Tina Weymouth
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