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Published on Sep 23, 2009
After All is a song written and performed by David Bowie. It is from the album The Man Who Sold The World in 1970.
Please trip them gently, they don't like to fall, Oh by jingo There's no room for anger, we're all very small, Oh by jingo We're painting our faces and dressing in thoughts from the skies, from paradise But they think that we're holding a secretive ball. Won't someone invite them They're just taller children, that's all, after all
Man is an obstacle, sad as the clown, Oh by jingo So hold on to nothing, and he won't let you down, Oh by jingo Some people are marching together and some on their own Quite alone Others are running, the smaller ones crawl But some sit in silence, they're just older children That's all, after all
I sing with impertinence, shading impermanent chords, With my words I've borrowed your time and I'm sorry I called But the thought just occurred that we're nobody's children at all, after all
Live your rebirth and do what you will, Oh by jingo Forget all I've said, please bear me no ill, Oh by jingo After all, after all