I’ll be a rock ‘n’ rollin’ bitch for you

PRESS PLAY: 

David Bowie has been my muse for a previous blog post.  In that post I determined that his un-American status (combined with his iconic musicianship) made him the perfect cultural historian to describe how un-American America has become.  

But this time, its different.  This time its less cerebral.  Tonight, I want to lap up the drops that are melting off his lyrics.  I want to wear the music like a body-gripping muslin gown.  

There is a rumor that Bowie got the idea for the lyrics by cutting random words out of magazines and newspapers and fitting them into sentences.  A perfect representation of life.   

And I’m busting up my brains for the words.  

We’re just piecing it together randomly in every moment.  Clawing for perfection.  Unaware that perfection is acceptance of the random.
And somehow still, the lyrics speak volumes about our humanness. 

Don’t fake it baby, lay the real thing on me.  

I never found the eloquence to say it but the truth is, in writing this blog, I’ve often felt that I have been a rock ‘n’ rollin’ bitch for you.  And for me. And I’ll own it proudly.  

The church of man, love
Is such a holy place to be

~ with moonage love,  jrb

 

Moonage Daydream.
I’m an alligator, I’m a mama-papa coming for you
I’m the space invader, I’ll be a rock ‘n’ rollin’ bitch for you
Keep your mouth shut,
you’re squawking like a pink monkey bird
And I’m busting up my brains for the words

Keep your ‘lectric eye on me babe
Put your ray gun to my head
Press your space face close to mine, love

Freak out in a moonage daydream oh yeah!

Don’t fake it baby, lay the real thing on me
The church of man, love
Is such a holy place to be
Make me baby, make me know you really care

Make me jump into the air

Keep your ‘lectric eye on me babe
Put your ray gun to my head
Press your space face close to mine, love
Freak out in a moonage daydream oh yeah!

Freak out, far out, in out

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