“Hang On To Yourself”
(David Bowie)

F#m
Well, she’s a tongue twisting storm,
A
Come to the show tonight,
Bm
Praying to the light machine.

She wants my honey not my money;
She’s a funky thigh collector,
Laying on electric dreams.

CHORUS:
C                     D                        C                                  D
So, come on, come on… We’ve really got a good thing going.
C                                D                          C
Well, come on.  Well, come on — if you think we’re gonna make it,
A                                                D – C – D – C
You better hang on to yourself…

We can’t dance; we don’t talk much.  We just ball and play.
But then we move like tigers on Vaseline.

Well, the bitter comes out better on a stolen guitar.
You’re the blessed; we’re the spiders from Mars.

CHORUS

SOLO (over A – D – A – D)

CHORUS (repeat)

A                     D
Come on, come on…

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