David Bowie - The Next Day lyrics
[David Bowie - The Next Day lyrics]
Look into my eyes he tells her
I'm gonna say goodbye he says, yeah
Do not cry she begs of him goodbye, yeah
All that day she thinks of his love, yeah
They whip him through the
Streets and alleys there
The gormless and the baying crowd right there
They can't get enough of that doomsday song
They can't get enough of it all listen
Listen to the whores he tells her
He fashions paper sculptures of them
Then drags them to the river's
Bank in the cart
Their soggy paper bodies wash
Ashore in the dark
And the priest stiff in hate
Now demanding fun begin
Of his women dressed as men for
The pleasure of that priest
Here I am, not quite dying
My body left to rot in a hollow tree
Its branches throwing shadows on
The gallows for me
And the next day, and the next
And another day
Ignoring the pain of
Their particular diseases
They chase him through the alleys
Chase him down the steps
They haul him through the mud and
They chant for his death
And drag him to the feet
Of the purple headed priest
First they give you everything that you want
Then they take back everything that you have
They live upon their feet and
They die upon their knees
They can work with Satan while
They dress like the saints
They know God exists for the
Devil told them so
They scream my name aloud down
Into the well below
Here I am, not quite dying
My body left to rot in a hollow tree
Its branches throwing shadows on
The gallows for me
And the next day, and the next
And another day here I am, not quite dying
My body left to rot in a hollow tree
Its branches throwing shadows on
The gallows for me
And the next day, and the next
And another day here I am, not quite dying
My body left to rot in a hollow tree
Its branches throwing shadows on
The gallows for me
And the next day, and the next
And another day
Listen
I'm gonna say goodbye he says, yeah
Do not cry she begs of him goodbye, yeah
All that day she thinks of his love, yeah
They whip him through the
Streets and alleys there
The gormless and the baying crowd right there
They can't get enough of that doomsday song
They can't get enough of it all listen
Listen to the whores he tells her
He fashions paper sculptures of them
Then drags them to the river's
Bank in the cart
Their soggy paper bodies wash
Ashore in the dark
And the priest stiff in hate
Now demanding fun begin
Of his women dressed as men for
The pleasure of that priest
Here I am, not quite dying
My body left to rot in a hollow tree
Its branches throwing shadows on
The gallows for me
And the next day, and the next
And another day
Ignoring the pain of
Their particular diseases
They chase him through the alleys
Chase him down the steps
They haul him through the mud and
They chant for his death
And drag him to the feet
Of the purple headed priest
First they give you everything that you want
Then they take back everything that you have
They live upon their feet and
They die upon their knees
They can work with Satan while
They dress like the saints
They know God exists for the
Devil told them so
They scream my name aloud down
Into the well below
Here I am, not quite dying
My body left to rot in a hollow tree
Its branches throwing shadows on
The gallows for me
And the next day, and the next
And another day here I am, not quite dying
My body left to rot in a hollow tree
Its branches throwing shadows on
The gallows for me
And the next day, and the next
And another day here I am, not quite dying
My body left to rot in a hollow tree
Its branches throwing shadows on
The gallows for me
And the next day, and the next
And another day
Listen