Lyrics: Tin Machine
Artist: David Bowie
Album: Tin Machine
Song: Tin Machine
Released: 1989
Rating:
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Tin Machine lyrics
Tin machine
Tin machine
Take me anywhere
somewhere without alcohol
Or goons with muddy hair
Tin machine
Tin machine
Tin machine
Tin machine
The zombies that I pass
The guy that beats his baby up
The preachers and their past
Tin machine
Tin machine
Tin machine
Baby doll
Baby doll
Clarity and power
There's more than money moving here
There's mindless maggot glare
Working horrors-humping Tories
Spittle on their chins
Carving up my children's future
Read 'em pal and grin
Raging raging raging
Burning in my room
C'mon and get a good idea
C'mon and get it soon
I'm waiting on the fire escape
I'm not exactly well
I'm neither red nor black nor white
I'm grey and blown to hell
Tin machine
Tin machine
Make some new computer thing
That puts me on the moon
Not this psycho-time-bomb planet
Poised to meet its maker
Shake a leg
Tin machine
Tin machine
One sick deathless duty to remain endangered species
They reach right out to touch someone
Then wash their crusty hands
Tin machine
Tin machine
Baby doll
Baby doll
Blue suede tuneless wonders
Mass confusion-faithless blues
Night that spews out watchmen
Mopping up another fortune
Fractured words and branca-sonic
Anger trapped behind locked doors
And right between the eyes
Tin machine
Take me anywhere
somewhere without alcohol
Or goons with muddy hair
Tin machine
Tin machine
Tin machine
Tin machine
The zombies that I pass
The guy that beats his baby up
The preachers and their past
Tin machine
Tin machine
Tin machine
Baby doll
Baby doll
Clarity and power
There's more than money moving here
There's mindless maggot glare
Working horrors-humping Tories
Spittle on their chins
Carving up my children's future
Read 'em pal and grin
Raging raging raging
Burning in my room
C'mon and get a good idea
C'mon and get it soon
I'm waiting on the fire escape
I'm not exactly well
I'm neither red nor black nor white
I'm grey and blown to hell
Tin machine
Tin machine
Make some new computer thing
That puts me on the moon
Not this psycho-time-bomb planet
Poised to meet its maker
Shake a leg
Tin machine
Tin machine
One sick deathless duty to remain endangered species
They reach right out to touch someone
Then wash their crusty hands
Tin machine
Tin machine
Baby doll
Baby doll
Blue suede tuneless wonders
Mass confusion-faithless blues
Night that spews out watchmen
Mopping up another fortune
Fractured words and branca-sonic
Anger trapped behind locked doors
And right between the eyes
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