The Daily Bowie #14 - "Young Americans"

The Daily Bowie #14 - "Young Americans"

I considered choosing another song from this album, but this song has been such an anthem in my life, I will save other selections for another time. After all, I am starting to put more thought into these selections as I choose one song from each album for the first 27 entries (and I am halfway there). For example, had I been thinking, I would have chosen "Sense of Doubt" for Heroes as that's the song I used for the name of this blog!

The lyrics for this song always spoke to me.

"Ain't there one damn song that can make me break down and cry?"

SOME LINKS

DAVID BOWIE WIKI

YOUNG AMERICAN WIKI

DAVID BOWIE DISCOGRAPHY

PUSHING AHEAD OF THE DAME ON YOUNG AMERICANS


"YOUNG AMERICANS" - FROM YOUNG AMERICANS (1975)

LIVE on the Dick Cavett Show (1974)




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"Young Americans"

They pulled in just behind the bridge

He lays her down, he frowns

"Gee my life's a funny thing, am I

still too young?"

He kissed her then and there

She took his ring, took his babies

It took him minutes, took her nowhere

Heaven knows, she'd have taken anything, but

All night

She wants the young American

Young American, young American, she wants the young American

All right

She wants the young American

Scanning life through the picture

window

She finds the slinky vagabond

He coughs as he passes her Ford

Mustang, but

Heaven forbid, she'll take anything

But the freak, and his type, all for

nothing

He misses a step and cuts his hand, but

Showing nothing, he swoops like a song

She cries "Where have all Papa's heroes gone?"

All the way from Washington

Her bread-winner begs off the bathroom floor

We live for just these twenty years

Do we have to die for the fifty more?"

All night

He wants the young American

Young American, young American,

he wants the young American

All right

He wants the young American

Do you remember, your President Nixon?

Do you remember, the bills you have to pay?

Or even yesterday?

Have been the un-American?

Just you and your idol sing falsetto

'bout Leather, leather everywhere, and

Not a myth left from the ghetto

Well, well, well, would you carry a razor

In case, just in case of depression?

Sit on your hands on a bus of survivors

Blushing at all the afro-Sheeners

Ain't that close to love?

Well, ain't that poster love?

Well, it ain't that Barbie doll

Her hearts have been broken just like you

All night

You want the young American

Young American, young American, you want the young American

All right

You want the young American

You ain't a pimp and you ain't a hustler

A pimp's got a Cadi and a lady got a Chrysler

Black's got respect, and white's got his soul train

Mama's got cramps, and look at your hands ache

(I heard the news today, oh boy)

I got a suite and you got defeat

Ain't there a man who can say no more?

And, ain't there a woman I can

sock on the jaw?

And, ain't there a child I can hold without judging?

Ain't there a pen that will write before they die?

Ain't you proud that you've still got faces?

Ain't there one damn song that can make me

break down and cry?

All night

I want the young American

Young American, young American, I want the young American

All right

I want the young American

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- Bloggery committed by chris tower - 1602.03 - 8:36