David BowieThe Mirror

Wash your face before your faded make-up makes a markThe mirror will watch over youPierrot never comes so pack your face and chase the darkThe mirror’s hung up on youDon’t be last, your friends and your reflectionIt’s all so direction nowPoor harlequin, you’re quite an exceptionFay troubadour, on a downerGay harlequin, doesn’t believe in youDoesn’t believe it’s true, such a downer.
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