Tin Machine Lyrics
| Song | Tin Machine |
| Artist | David Bowie |
| Album | Tin Machine |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| Written：D.Bowie/Tony Sales/Hunt Sales/Reeves Gabrels | |
| Tin machine | |
| Tin machine | |
| Take me anywhere | |
| somewhere without alcohol | |
| Or goons with muddy hair | |
| Tin machine | |
| Tin machine | |
| Tin machine | |
| Tin machine | |
| The zombies that I pass | |
| The guy that beats his baby up | |
| The preachers and their past | |
| Tin machine | |
| Tin machine | |
| Tin machine | |
| Baby doll | |
| Baby doll | |
| Clarity and power | |
| There's more than money moving here | |
| There's mindless maggot glare | |
| Working horrors-humping Tories | |
| Spittle on their chins | |
| Carving up my children's future | |
| Read 'em pal and grin | |
| Raging raging raging | |
| Burning in my room | |
| C'mon and get a good idea | |
| C'mon and get it soon | |
| I'm waiting on the fire escape | |
| I'm not exactly well | |
| I'm neither red nor black nor white | |
| I'm grey and blown to hell | |
| Tin machine | |
| Tin machine | |
| Make some new computer thing | |
| That puts me on the moon | |
| Not this psycho-time-bomb planet | |
| Poised to meet its maker | |
| Shake a leg | |
| Tin machine | |
| Tin machine | |
| One sick deathless duty to remain endangered species | |
| They reach right out to touch someone | |
| Then wash their crusty hands | |
| Tin machine | |
| Tin machine | |
| Baby doll | |
| Baby doll | |
| Blue suede tuneless wonders | |
| Mass confusion-faithless blues | |
| Night that spews out watchmen | |
| Mopping up another fortune | |
| Fractured words and branca-sonic | |
| Anger trapped behind locked doors | |
| And right between the eyes |
| Written: D. Bowie Tony Sales Hunt Sales Reeves Gabrels | |
| Tin machine | |
| Tin machine | |
| Take me anywhere | |
| somewhere without alcohol | |
| Or goons with muddy hair | |
| Tin machine | |
| Tin machine | |
| Tin machine | |
| Tin machine | |
| The zombies that I pass | |
| The guy that beats his baby up | |
| The preachers and their past | |
| Tin machine | |
| Tin machine | |
| Tin machine | |
| Baby doll | |
| Baby doll | |
| Clarity and power | |
| There' s more than money moving here | |
| There' s mindless maggot glare | |
| Working horrorshumping Tories | |
| Spittle on their chins | |
| Carving up my children' s future | |
| Read ' em pal and grin | |
| Raging raging raging | |
| Burning in my room | |
| C' mon and get a good idea | |
| C' mon and get it soon | |
| I' m waiting on the fire escape | |
| I' m not exactly well | |
| I' m neither red nor black nor white | |
| I' m grey and blown to hell | |
| Tin machine | |
| Tin machine | |
| Make some new computer thing | |
| That puts me on the moon | |
| Not this psychotimebomb planet | |
| Poised to meet its maker | |
| Shake a leg | |
| Tin machine | |
| Tin machine | |
| One sick deathless duty to remain endangered species | |
| They reach right out to touch someone | |
| Then wash their crusty hands | |
| Tin machine | |
| Tin machine | |
| Baby doll | |
| Baby doll | |
| Blue suede tuneless wonders | |
| Mass confusionfaithless blues | |
| Night that spews out watchmen | |
| Mopping up another fortune | |
| Fractured words and brancasonic | |
| Anger trapped behind locked doors | |
| And right between the eyes |
| Written: D. Bowie Tony Sales Hunt Sales Reeves Gabrels | |
| Tin machine | |
| Tin machine | |
| Take me anywhere | |
| somewhere without alcohol | |
| Or goons with muddy hair | |
| Tin machine | |
| Tin machine | |
| Tin machine | |
| Tin machine | |
| The zombies that I pass | |
| The guy that beats his baby up | |
| The preachers and their past | |
| Tin machine | |
| Tin machine | |
| Tin machine | |
| Baby doll | |
| Baby doll | |
| Clarity and power | |
| There' s more than money moving here | |
| There' s mindless maggot glare | |
| Working horrorshumping Tories | |
| Spittle on their chins | |
| Carving up my children' s future | |
| Read ' em pal and grin | |
| Raging raging raging | |
| Burning in my room | |
| C' mon and get a good idea | |
| C' mon and get it soon | |
| I' m waiting on the fire escape | |
| I' m not exactly well | |
| I' m neither red nor black nor white | |
| I' m grey and blown to hell | |
| Tin machine | |
| Tin machine | |
| Make some new computer thing | |
| That puts me on the moon | |
| Not this psychotimebomb planet | |
| Poised to meet its maker | |
| Shake a leg | |
| Tin machine | |
| Tin machine | |
| One sick deathless duty to remain endangered species | |
| They reach right out to touch someone | |
| Then wash their crusty hands | |
| Tin machine | |
| Tin machine | |
| Baby doll | |
| Baby doll | |
| Blue suede tuneless wonders | |
| Mass confusionfaithless blues | |
| Night that spews out watchmen | |
| Mopping up another fortune | |
| Fractured words and brancasonic | |
| Anger trapped behind locked doors | |
| And right between the eyes |
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