Here shall we live in this terrible town Where the price for our eyes shall squeeze them tight like a fist And the walls shall have eyes And the doors shall have ears But we'll dance in the dark And they'll play with our lives Like a Slow Burn Leading us on and on and on Like a Slow Burn Turning us round and round and round But who are we So small in times such as these Slow Burn Slow Burn Oh, these are the days These are the strangest of all These are the nights These are the darkest to fall But who knows? Echoes in tenement halls Who knows? Though the years snare them all Like a Slow Burn Leading us on and on and on Like a Slow Burn Twirling us round and round and upside down There's fear overhead There's fear overground Slow Burn Slow Burn Like a Slow Burn Leading us on and on and on Like a Slow Burn Turning us round and round and round And here are we At the center of it all Slow Burn Slow Burn Slow Burn
Written by: David Bowie