Young Americans David Bowie
They pulled in just behind the bridge He lays her down, he frowns Gee my life's a funny thing, am I still too young? He kissed her then and there She took his ring, took his babies It took him minutes, took her nowhere Heaven knows, she'd have taken anything, but All night She wants a young American Young American, young American, she wants the young American All night But she wants the young American Scanning life through the picture window She finds the slinky vagabond He coughs as he passes her Ford Mustang But Heaven forbid, she'll take anything But the freak, and his type, all for nothing Misses a step and cuts his hand, but Showing nothing, he swoops like a song She cries, "Where have all Papa's heroes gone?" All night She wants the young American Young American, young American, she wants the young American All right Well she wants the young American All the way from Washington Her bread-winner begs off the bathroom floor We live for just these twenty years Do we have to die for the fifty more? All night He wants the young American Young American, young American He wants the young American All right (all right) Well, he wants the young American Do you remember, your President Nixon? (ooh) Do you remember, the bills you have to pay? Or even yesterday? Have been the un-American? (ooh) Just you and your idol sing falsetto (ooh) 'Bout Leather, leather everywhere, and Not a myth left from the ghetto Well, well, well, would you carry a razor (ooh) In case, just in case of depression? (ooh) Sit on your hands on a bus of survivors Blushing at all the Afro-Sheeners Ain't that close to love? Well, ain't that poster love? Well, it ain't that Barbie doll Her hearts have been broken just like you and All night All night you want the young American Young American, young American, you want the young American All right You want the young American You ain't a pimp and you ain't a hustler A pimp's got a Cadi and a lady got a Chrysler Black's got respect, and white's got his soul train Mama's got cramps, and look at your hands ache (I heard the news today, oh boy) I got a suite and you got defeat Ain't there a man who can say no more? And, ain't there a woman I can sock on the jaw? And, ain't there a child I can hold without judging? Ain't there a pen that will write before they die? Ain't you proud that you've still got faces? Ain't there one damn song that can make me Break down and cry? All night I want the young American Young American, young American, I want the young American All right I want the young American, young American Young American, young American, I want the young American (I want what you want, I want what you want) All night You and I I want you, I Young American, young American, I want the young American All right And all I want is the young American Young American, young American, I want the young American Source: LyricFind Songwriters: David Bowie
as if that idiot could even read Crowley's writings. He was a total poseur.
Well that idiot did along with Led Zeppelin, Rolling Stones and many more.
Jimmy Page is a dedicated Crowleyist and collector and has been for 50 fucking years, that I can buy. The Stones and Bowie? Poseurs who thought it looked cool or name dropped briefly in an interview. They don't have the brainpower to sit around and decipher Edwardian ravings.
You try and sit down and read The Equinox and tell me Keith Richards or Mick Jagger would be able to sit still for it.
Your personal opinion of these people is worth jack shit. Q said these people are stupid so obviously you don't need a degree to be a Satanist. The choice to know is yours.