Bowie in Our Heads



Again today we’re stepping through the door lead to yet-we-know-where,
Holding hands in hands each day for not falling into the same hole.
The cold night air is blowing my hair off but I don’t really care,
For I have you right beside me so it brings peace to my soul.
And I’m wondering whether in some space out there,
Major Tom is still calling upon the Ground Control.

M.F

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