Soul Love

bowie david

young americans

young americans

they pulled in just behind the fridge

he lays he 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 no-where

heaven knows she'd've taken anything but

{chorus*she* version}

*she* wants the young american

but *she* wants the young american

scanning life through the picture window

she finds the slinky vagabond

he coughs as he passes up her red mustang but

heaven forbid she take anything

but the freak and his type all for nothing

misses a step and cuts his hand but

showing nothing he swoops like a song

she cries "where have all papas' heroes gone?"

{chorus*she* version}

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?" had

{chorus*he* version}

*he* wants the young american

but *he* wants the young american

do you remember

your president nixon?

do you remember

the bills you have to pay

or even yesterday?

have you have been an un-american?

just you and your idol singing 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-sheila's

ain't that close to love?

well ain't that poster love?

well it ain't that barbie doll

her heart's been broken just like you have

{chorus*you* version}

*you* wants the young american

but *you* wants the young american

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

a pimps' got a cadi and a lady got a chrysler

blacks got respect uhh whites got his soul train

mamas' got cramps and look at your hands ache

i got a suite and you got defeat

ain't there a man you 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?

{chorus*i* version}

*i* wants the young american

but *i* wants the young american