Testo Young Americans - David Bowie
Testo della canzone Young Americans (David Bowie), tratta dall'album David Bowie: Live in Chile 1990
Whistle down behind the prison, lady down
Keep an eye on the G-man, he likes the fun of it
Am I still too young? Guess I've had my fill
She took his ring, took his baby
Took him minutes to carry away
Heaven knows she's shakin' the blame
All night, she wants the young Americans
Young Americans, young Americans
She wants the young Americans
All night, she wants the young Americans
Standing like a fool at the window, spied this drinking vagabond
Coughed as he passed the butler's stand
Heaven knows she's shakin' the blame
With the quickest eye for the faint
See her step and cut his hand
So he comes and swoons like a socialite
Where are all Papa's heroes tonight?
All night, she wants the young Americans
Young Americans, young Americans
She wants the young Americans
All night, she wants the young Americans
On her way from Washington
Breadwinner begs at the local mall
If he does his twenty years, he'll have to dodge the fifty ball
All night, she wants the young Americans
Young Americans, young Americans
She wants the young Americans
All night, she wants the young Americans
Do you remember President Nixon?
Do you remember the bills we had to pay?
Or even yesterday?
Now you bring me the horror guns
You and your eye for the Singaporean devil
Every man, everywhere
Another milk left from the kettle
Well, well, would you carry a razor?
Just in case, in case of depression
Sit on your hands with a bust of survivors
And sing along to Afro-Shi'ites
Ain't that close to love?
Ain't that close to love?
It ain't no parlor, darling
My heart's been broken just like yours
All night, she wants the young Americans
Young Americans, young Americans
She wants the young Americans
All night, she wants the young Americans
You ain't a man, you ain't a hustler
Baby's got a dada, baby's got a rasta
Black's got respect, white's got his soldier
Mama's got cramps, look at my hands, hey
(I've read your news today, of course)
I've got to sleep, he's got to feed
And every man who can sing a verse
And every woman that can sock 'em the touch
And every child that's born with a touch
And every man who can rock 'em 'til they die
Ain't Japan, but you still got bases
Ain't there one damn song that can make me...
Credits
Writer(s): David Bowie
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