Words and music by 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 CHORUS (SHE) 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 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?" CHORUS (SHE) 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?" CHORUS (HE) 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 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-Sheeners 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 CHORUS (YOU) 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? CHORUS (I) (repeat 3 times ad lib) All night I want the young American Young American, young American, I want the young American All right I want the young American