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.



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