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AUSFÜHRENDE KÜNSTLER:INNEN
David Bowie
David Bowie
Stimme und Gesang
Willie Weeks
Willie Weeks
Bass
Andy Newmark
Andy Newmark
Schlagzeug
Carlos Alomar
Carlos Alomar
Gitarre
David Sanborn
David Sanborn
Saxofon
Larry Washington
Larry Washington
Congas
Luther Vandross
Luther Vandross
Begleitgesang
Robin Clark
Robin Clark
Begleitgesang
Ava Cherry
Ava Cherry
Begleitgesang
Michael Garson
Michael Garson
Klavier
Pablo Rosario
Pablo Rosario
Percussion/Schlagzeug
KOMPOSITION UND LIEDTEXT
David Bowie
David Bowie
Songwriter:in
Luther Vandross
Luther Vandross
Arrangeur:in für Gesangsaufnahmen
PRODUKTION UND TECHNIK
Carl Parulow
Carl Parulow
Aufnahmeingenieur:in
Tony Visconti
Tony Visconti
Produzent:in
Mike Hutchinson
Mike Hutchinson
Tonband-Ingenieur:in

Lirik

They pulled in just behind the fridge 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 Young american, young american, she wants the young american All right She wants the young american Scanning life through the picture windows 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 Young american, young american, she wants the young american All right 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 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 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 And 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 you 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 with you, I want with you want) All right (you want it, I want you you, you want i, I want you want) Young american, young american, I want the young american (I want to want, to want, to want, to want i, I want you) All right (lord I wanted the young american) (young american) Young american, young american I want the young american Mmmmmm mmm
Writer(s): David Bowie Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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