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(, Sun 1 Apr 2001, 1:00)
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I'm committing suicide with a samurai sword, not entering into a fucking drag race.
(, Mon 22 Mar 2010, 10:28, Reply)
sitting in your garage with the door shut, engine on as you slowly sob onto your embroidered Bowie cushion, wishing you could actually feel his smooth skin on your cheek. You turn the radio up louder and starman comes on, the air is thick with fumes now as you struggle to finish the verse before you see a bright light, a figure emerges, it's Bowie in all his glory, you jump up realising you have now left behind your earlthly body and are free, free to spend eternity running through labyrinths with Bowie.
(, Mon 22 Mar 2010, 10:36, Reply)
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