When you were here before, couldn't look you in the eye. You're just like an angel, your skin makes me cry. You float like a feather, in a beautiful world I wish I was special, you're so fucking special.

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo. What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here.

I don't care if it hurts, I want to have control. I want a perfect body, I want a perfect soul. I want you to notice, when I'm not around. You're so fucking special, I wish I was special.

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo. What the hell am I doing here?. I don't belong here

She's running out the door, she's running, she run, run, run, run, run.

Whatever makes you happy, whatever you want. You're so fucking special, I wish I was special,

but I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo. What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here, I don't belong here.

Creep © 1993, Thom Yorke