panic in detroit
david bowie
he looked a lot like che guevara
kept his gun in quiet seclusion
the only survivor of the national people's gang
i wish someone would phone
he laughed at accidental sirens that broke the evening
the police had warned of repercussions
they followed none too soon
a trickle of strangers were all that were left alive
i wish someone would phone
putting on some clothes i made my way to school
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
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