I'd Rather Be High Lyrics - The Next Day - David Bowie

Nabokov is sun-licked now 

Upon the beach at Gruenewald 

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 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 

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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 flying 

I'd rather be dead or out of my head 

Than training these guns of those men in the sand 

I'd rather be high 

I'm seventeen and 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 

Photos 

I'd rather be high 

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