Текст песни David Bowie - Candidate

Текст:

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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