Mammas Got Cramps… Look At Your Hands Ache–

Gee, my life’s a funny thing. Am I still too young? – 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 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–


He 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…

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…

Do you remember, your President Nixon?

Do you remember, the bills you have to pay

Or even yesterday?

Have you have been an un-American?

Just you and your idol singing falsetto

’bout
Leather,

leather

everywhere,

and
Not a myth left from the ghetto–


Well, well, well, would you carry a razor…
In case, just in case of depression?


Sit on your hands on a bus of survivors
Blushing at all the afro-Sheilas…


Ain’t that close to love?

Well, ain’t that poster love?

Well, it ain’t that Barbie doll

Her heart’s been broken just like you have–


All night
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…


All right
I want the young American.


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