(David Bowie)


You've got your mother in a whirl

She's not sure if you're a boy or a girl

Hey babe, your hair's alright

Hey babe, let's go out tonight

You like me, and I like it all

We like dancing and we look divine

You love bands when they're playing hard

You want more and you want it fast

They put you down, they say I'm wrong

You tacky thing, you put them on


Rebel Rebel, you've torn your dress

Rebel Rebel, your face is a mess

Rebel Rebel, how could they know?

Hot tramp, I love you so!


You've torn your dress, your face is a mess

You can't get enough, but enough ain't the test

You've got your transmission and your live wire

You got your cue line and a handful of ludes

You wanna be there when they count up the dudes

And I love your dress

You're a juvenile success

Because your face is a mess

So how could they know?

I said, how could they know?


So what you wanna know

Calamity's child, chi-chile, chi-chile

Where'd you wanna go?

What can I do for you? Looks like you've been there too

'Cause you've torn your dress

And your face is a mess

Your face is a mess

So how could they know?