by David Bowie
He looked a lot like Che Guevara, drove a diesel van 
Kept his gun in quiet seclusion, such a humble man 
The only survivor of the National People's Gang 
Panic in Detroit, I asked for an autograph 
He wanted to stay home, I wish someone would phone 
Panic in Detroit 
He laughed at accidental sirens that broke the evening 
gloom 
The police had warned of repercussions 
They followed none too soon 
A trickle of strangers were all that were left alive 
Panic in Detroit, I asked for an autograph 
He wanted to stay home, I wish someone would phone 
Panic in Detroit 
Putting on some clothes I made my way to school 
And I found my teacher crouching in his overalls 
I screamed and ran to smash my favorite slot machine 
And jumped the silent cars that slept at traffic lights 
Having scored a trillion dollars, made a run back home 
Found him slumped across the table. A gun and me alone 
I ran to the window. Looked for a plane or two 
Panic in Detroit. He'd left me an autograph 
"Let me collect dust." I wish someone would phone 
Panic in Detroit