Wood Jackson (Bowie David)

Jackson made twenty tapes in a day To give away A give away And he play The tunes they'd call creative when they're running out of names Heaven knows he's really torn it now But the names it hurt poor jackson stopped the haters in his way Heaven knows he's for it Sha-a-a-me! Hey hey He was never quite unsure but really sane Wants to play Jackson stole twenty souls in a day To take away A take away He takes away And no complaints Heart's upon his sleeve and his blade Wood jackson took the beating every day, given out, passed away, another way Hey hey Just wants to play And how he played The mob they bleed and tremble when they're running after life Heaven knows he's really torn it now The words that killed Wood jackson's friends were written on the wall Heaven knows he's for it Shame! Just wants to play It's a shame Shame It's a shame Wants to play It's a shame It's a shame Just wants to play