David Bowie - 'Tis a Pity She Was a Whore
Man, she punched me like a dude,
‘Hold your mad hands,' I cried.
‘Tis a pity she was a whore,
‘Tis my curse, I suppose,
That was patrol,
That was patrol,
This is the war.
Black struck the kiss, she kept my cock,
Smote the mistress, drifting on,
‘Tis a pity she was a whore,
She stole my purse with rattling speed,
That was patrol,
This is the war,
‘Tis a pity she was a whore.
Man, she punched me like a dude,
‘Hold your mad hands,' I cried.
‘Tis a pity she was a whore,
‘Tis my fate, I suppose,
For, that was patrol,
That was patrol,
‘Tis a pity she was a whore.
‘Tis a pity she was a whore.
