David Bowie - Sweet Thing LIVE @ Universal Amphitheatre, LA (1974) | Текст песни

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• David Bowie
• Sweet Thing LIVE @ Universal Amphitheatre, LA (1974)

It’s safe in the city, to love in a doorway
To wrangle some screens from the door
And isn’t it me, putting pain in a stranger?
Like a portrait in flesh, who trails on a leash
Will you see that I’m scared and I’m lonely?
So I’ll break up my room, and yawn and i
Run to the centre of things
Where the knowing one says

Boys, boys, it’s a sweet thing
Boys, boys, it’s a sweet thing, sweet thing
If you want it, boys, get it here, thing
’cause hope, boys, is a cheap thing, cheap thing

I’m glad that you’re older than me
Makes me feel important and free
Does that make you smile, isn’t that me?
I’m in your way, and I’ll steal every moment
If his trade is a curse, then I’ll bless you
And turn to the crossroads, and hamburgers, and

Boys, boys, it’s a sweet thing
Boys, boys, it’s a sweet thing, sweet thing
If you want it, boys, get it here, thing
’cause hope, boys, is a cheap thing, cheap thing

Inside every teenage girl there’s a fountain
Inside every young pair of pants there’s a mountain
Inside every mother’s eyes is tommy tinkrem’s bed
Inside every candidate waits a grateful dead

I make it a thing, when I’m on my own to relieve myself
I make it a thing, when I gazelle on stage to believe in myself
I make it a thing, to glance in window panes and look pleased with myself
Yeah, and pretend I’m walking home

I took it so bad, I sat in the correction room
Took me a fag, and a kick in the moon
Well, I ain’t gonna suck no radar wing
Because inside this tin is tin
Would you like to techno-plate cause I’m your candidate
Oh yeah

It’s a matter of life
And the way you walk, you’ve got a brylcream queen
It’s a matter of tact
In the things you talk, that keeps his passport clean
A matter of fact
That a cock ain’t a cock on a twelve inch screen
So I’ll pretend I’m walking home

You don’t have to scream a lot to keep an age in tune
You don’t have to scream a lot to predict monsoons
You don’t have to paint my contact black
Now I’ve hustled a pair of jeans
Do I have to give your money back when I’m the fuhrerling

I’ll make you a deal
I’ll say I came from from earth and my tongue is taped
I’ll make you a deal
You can get your kicks on the candidate
I’ll make you a deal
For your future’s sake, I’m the candidate
Let’s pretend we’re walking home

Uh-huh, uh-huh
I’m the candidate
I’m the candidate
Vote now for the candidate

If you want it, boys, get it here thing
’cause hope, boys, is a cheap thing, cheap thing

Is it nice in your snow storm, freezing your brain?
Do you think that your face looks the same?
Then let it be, it’s all I ever wanted
It’s a street with a deal, and a taste
It’s got claws, it’s got me, it’s got you

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