Hang On To Yourself
The Rise And Fall Of Ziggy Stardust And The Spiders From Mars
She wants my honey not my money she’s a funky-thigh collector
Layin’ on ‘lectric dreams
Oily marks appear on walls
Where pleasure moments hung before.
The takeover, the sweeping insensitivity of this still life.
Move away from your western guns
Travel towards eastern suns
Far above all earthly goals
A pledge for creation’s soul
He was a famous trumpet man from old Chicago way He had a boogie style that no one else could play He was the top man at his craft But then his number came up and he was gone with the draft