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David Bowie Man Who Sold The World After All Please trip them gently, they don't like to fall (oh by jingo) There's no room for anger, we're all very small (oh by jingo) We're painting our faces and dressing in thoughts from the skies, from paradise But they think that we're holding a secretive ball Won't someone invite them They're just taller children, (oooo), that's all, after all Man is an obstacle, sad as the clown (oh by jingo) So hold on to nothing, and he won't let you down (oh by jingo) Some people are marching together and some on their own Quite alone Others are running, the smaller ones crawl But some sit in silence, they're just older children (oooo), that's all, after all I sing with impertinence, shading impermanent chords, With my words I've borrowed your time and i'm sorry i called But the thought just occurred that we're nobody's children at all, (oooo), after all Live to your rebirth and do what you will (oh by jingo) Forget all i've said, please bear me no ill (oh by jingo) After all, after all |
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