Please trip them gently
They don't like to fall, oh by jingo
There's no room for anger
We're all very small, oh by jingo

We're painting our faces
And dressing in thoughts from the skies
From paradise
But they think that we're holding a secretive ball
Won't someone invite them
They're just taller children, that's all, after all

Man is an obstacle, sad as the clown, oh by jingo
So hold on to nothing
And he won't let you down, oh by jingo
Some people are marching together
And some on their own, quite alone
Others are running, the smaller ones crawl
But some sit in silence, they're just older children
That's all, after all

I sing with impertinence
Shading impermanent chords, with my words
I've borrowed your time and I'm sorry I called
But the thought just occurred
That we're nobody's children at all, after all
Live till your rebirth
And do what you will, oh by jingo
Forget all I've said
Please bear me no ill, oh by jingo

After all, after all

Composição: David Bowie