Eight line poem - David Bowie lyrics | LyricsOfSong.com
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David Bowie - Eight line poem lyrics


The tactful cactus by your window
Surveys the prairie of your room
The mobile spins to its collision
Clara puts her head between her paws
They've opened shops down West side



Will all the cacti find a home
But the key to the city
Is in the sun that pïns
the branches to the sky

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