David Bowie

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Bm
Nobokov is sun-licked now
D
Upon the beach at Gruenwald
Bm
Brilliant and naked just
     G
The way that authors looks

Clare and Lady Manners drink
Until the other cows go home
Gossip till their lips are bleeding
Politics and all

Chorus:
              Em                   A
I'd rather be high (I'd rather be high)
               Em                     A
I'd rather be flying (I'd rather be flying)
              Dm7
I'd rather be dead
             F#m7
Or out of my head
                     Dm7                      D
Than training these guns on those men in the sand
               A
I'd rather be high

The Thames was black, the tower dark
I flew to Cairo, find my regiment
City’s full of generals
And generals full of shit

I stumble to the graveyard and I
Lay down by my parents, whisper
Just remember duckies
Everybody gets got

chorus

     D                                 A
I'm seventeen and my looks can prove it
     D                           A
I'm so afraid that I will lose it
     E
I'd rather smoke and phone my ex
     D7                            A
Be pleading for some teenage sex, yeah

chorus