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Bowie, thy music is to me Like the caffeine of change That rapidly, o'er a wavelength strange, The scared nature-born girl carry To her techo-future deranged. On confusing Netscape long wont to touch, Thy mismatched eyes, thy pensive face. Thy futuristic airs have shown me such Like the vastness of space, And the speed of the dace. Lo! on my bright computer-monitor, How idol-like I see thee stand, The microphone in thy hand! Ah website from the regions which Are Future Land!
