Lyrics : David Bowie
Music : David Bowie
Producer : David Bowie
Nabokov is sun-licked now upon the beach at Grunewald
Brilliant and naked just the way that authors look
Clare and Lady Manners drink until the other cows go home
Gossip till their lips are bleeding, politics and all
I'd rather be high (I'd rather be high)
I'd rather be flying (I'd rather be flying)
I'd rather be dead or out of my head
Than training these guns on those men in the sand
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
I'd rather be high (I'd rather be high)
I'd rather be flying (I'd rather be flying)
I'd rather be dead or out of my head
Than training these guns on those men in the sand
I'd rather be high
I'm seventeen, my looks can prove it
I'm so afraid that I will lose it
I'd rather smoke and phone my ex
Be pleading for some teenage sex, yeah
I'd rather be high (I'd rather be high)
I'd rather be flying (I'd rather be flying)
I'd rather be dead or out of my head
Than training these guns on the men in the sand
I'd rather be high
I'd rather be flying
I'd rather be high
I'd rather be flying
I'd rather be flying
I'd rather be high
I'd rather be flying
Audio Assistant : Brian Thorn/Kabir Hermon
Audio Engineer : Mario McNulty/Tony Visconti
母带重制 : John Webber
Guitar : Gerry Leonard
Drums : Zachary Alford
Bass Guitar : Tony Levin
Mastering Engineer : Dave McNair
Vocals : David Bowie