Clutches of sad remains

From an article on the ever-wonderful Dangerous Minds site:

According to his parents David Bowie was a smart kid. He was rolling paper into a typewriter and tapping keys writing gobble-de-gook lines and even using a phone - the old-fashioned rotary kind - by the time he was three. His parents thought he was special, just like every parent does, but they were right. They never talked to him as a child, no baby talk, no goo-goo, ga-ga, they treated him as a mini-adult because they thought him smart, intelligent, someone who had chutzpah, someone who just might do something. Not that his teachers thought the same. He was an average student who could always do better. One former school friend Trevor Blythe said of him:

"He was a very bright guy, but he never applied himself. He was fairly good at art, but overall he tended to wander through. He was a butterfly. I was old-fashioned and could knuckle down and do the job. He was the opposite to that. There was a creative spirit, but no-one could’ve guessed where it was headed."

I imagine not...

Today, that "creative spirit" would have celebrated his 72nd birthday.

David Bowie - Aladdin Sane (1913–1938–197?)

Who'll love Aladdin Sane
Battle cries and champagne just in time for sunrise
Who'll love Aladdin Sane

Motor sensational, Paris or maybe hell (I'm waiting)
Clutches of sad remains
Waits for Aladdin Sane you'll make it

Who'll love Aladdin Sane
Millions weep a fountain, just in case of sunrise
Who'll love Aladdin Sane

We'll love Aladdin Sane
Love Aladdin Sane

And we do.

David Bowie (8th January 1947 – 10th January 2016)