David
Bowie has his Black star
Riding
high on the musical chart
He
gets his high when he is gone
A
dream he finally makes the cut
We
have our own Black star
Riding
in our minds achieving high
On
a wrong way making us cry
Every
day when we wake up to read
The
old song still rings
The
lies still cut deeply in the mind
The
falling leaves covering the marks
The
breezes sweep the leaves away
The
mark of the Black star
It
shines in the daylight sun
We
try to ignore it
But
we know we can't be the fools
We
have to decide ourselves
We
have enough of the old song
It
brings us shame and pain
Reading
about it every day
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