The reason I lit on David Bowie at a young age was the music. The reason I’ve hung on to David Bowie through adulthood are the lyrics + music. Early Bowie threw out the best lyrics rock ever experienced. And there were tons of them. Although not the most popular, not the most meaningful, and not the best musically, We Are The Dead offered the most incredible lyrics of any song Bowie ever wrote. Fire up the video and follow these lyrics:
Something kind of hit me today
I looked at you and wondered if you saw things my way
People will hold us to blame
It hit me today, it hit me today
We’re taking it hard all the time, why don’t we pass it by?
Just reply, you’ve changed your mind?
We’re fighting with the eyes of the blind
Taking it hard, taking it hard,
We feel that we are paper,
choking on you nightly
They tell me,
“Son, we want you, be elusive, but don’t walk far”.
For we’re breaking in the new boys,
deceive your next of kin
For your dancing where the dogs decay,
You’re just an ally of the leecher,
procreator for the virgin king
But I love you, in your fuck-me pumps,
and your nimble dress that trails.
Oh, dress yourself, my urchin one,
for I hear them on the rails
Because of all we’ve seen,
because of all we’ve said,
we are the dead
One thing kind of touched me today
I looked at you and counted all the times we’d laid
Pressing our love through the night
Knowing it’s right, knowing it’s right
Now I’m hoping some one will care
Living on the breath of a hope to be shared
Trusting on the sons of our love,
That some one will care, some one will care,
We’re today’s scrambled creatures,
locked in tomorrow’s double feature
Heavens on the pillow,
it’s silence competes with hell
It’s a twenty-four hour service,
guaranteed to make you tell
And the streets are full of press men,
bent on getting hung and buried
And the legendary curtains,
are drawn ’round baby bankrupt
Who sucks you while you’re sleeping
It’s the theater of financiers,
count them, fifty, ’round the table
White men dressed to kill
Oh, caress yourself, my juicy,
for my hands have all but withered
Oh, dress yourself my urchin one,
for I hear them on the stairs
Because of all we’ve seen, because of all we’ve said
We are the dead…..
we are dead…..
we are the dead
Compare THAT to Kanye West.