Child sit down, I’ll tell you a story.
There’s a Starman, waiting in the sky.
He’s known as the great David Bowie,
And he’ll sing you a lullaby.
A man of self-reinvention,
Icon of androgyny.
A master of sound and vision,
Always who he wanted to be.
Bowie gave us Ziggy Stardust –
Ground control to Major Tom.
His space-rock alter-ego
Hit the seventies like a bomb.
Then he flipped his style like a light switch —
Turned into the Thin White Duke.
He was dapper, cool, and stylish,
Buttoned up in a slim black suit.
Teaming up with the great Brian Eno,
He created the Berlin Trilogy.
Classics like Fame, and Heroes, and Low
Signaled a creative apogee.
That’s just a fancy word for peak,
But in this case I find it fitting.
He was sly and witty and chic,
A throne was wherever he was sitting.
More hits than you’ve ever even heard of,
It’s like they just kept on a’coming.
China Girl, Let’s Dance, and Modern Love,
Even the Drummer Boy a’drumming.
Bowie could write a punk song,
Then turn around with a soulful groove.
He was glam and then he was techno,
And he could make your dancing shoes move.
A musician, an artist, an icon,
His creativity could not be contained.
He left us a lesson to pass on:
We can be heroes — if just for one day.