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Recorded in 1974 by David Bowie. (02:40 min)
I'll make you a deal like any other candidate.We'll pretend were walking home cause your future's at stakeMy set is amazing, it even smells like the streetThere is a bar at the end where I could meet you and your friend.Someone scrawled on the wall "I smell the blood of les tricoteuses"Who wrote up scandals in other barsI am having so much fun with the poisonous peopleSpreading rumors and lies and stories they made upSome make you sing and some make you screamOne makes you wish that you never been seenBut there's a shop on the corner selling papier macheMaking bullet-proof faces Charles Manson, Cassius ClayIf you want it, boys get it here thing.So you scream out of line"I want you! I need you! Anyone out there? Anytime?Tres butch little number whines "Hey girlie, I want youWhen it's good it's really good and when it's bad I go to pieces"If you want it, boys, get it here, thingWell, on the street where you live I could not hold up my headFor I put all I have in another bedOn another floor, in the back of a carIn the cellar of a church with the door ajar.Well, I guess we must be looking for a different kindBut we can't stop trying til we break up our minds'Til the sun drips blood on the seedy young knightsWho press on the ground while shaking in frightI guess we could cruise down one more timeWith you by my side, it should be fineWe'll buy some drugs and watch a bandThen jump into a river holding hands
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