Candidate
David Bowie
I’ll make you a deal
Like any other candidate
We’ll pretend we’re walking home
‘Cause your future’s at stake
My set is amazing
It even smells like a street
There’s a bar at the end
Where I can meet you and your friend
Someone scrawled on the wall
I smell the blood
Of les tricoteuses
Who wrote up scandals
In other bars
I’m having so much fun
With the poisonous people
Spreading rumours and lies
And stories they made up
Some make you sing
And some make you scream
One makes you wish
That you’d never been seen
But there’s a shop on the corner
That’s selling papier mache
Making bullet proof faces
Charles Manson, Cassius Clay
If you want it boys
Get it here thing
So you scream out of line
I want you I need you
Anyone out there, any time
A tres butch little number whines
Hey dirty I want you
When it’s good
It’s really good and when it’s
Bad, I go to pieces
If you want it boys
Get it here thing
Well on the street where you live
I could not hold up my head
For I put all I have in another bed
On another floor, in the back of a car
In a cellar like a church with the door ajar
Well, I guess we must be looking
For a different kind
But we can’t stop trying,
Till we break up our minds
Till the sun drip blood
On the seedy young knights
Who press you on the ground
While shaking in fright
I guess we could cruise down one more time
With you by my side it should be fine
We’ll buy some drugs and watch a band
Then jump in a river holding hands