Tactful cactus by your window

surveys the prairie of your room,

mobile spins to its collision,

Clara puts her head between her paws

They´ve opened shops down on the west side,

all the cacti (cactus) find a home,

But the key to the city

is in the sun that pins the branches to the sky.

( Lyrics : " Eight line Poem ", David Bowie ).

Home, city ( tactful head ) prairie, Sky.

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