Sweet Thing / Candidate / Sweet Thing - David Bowie

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