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Текст (слова) песни: David Bowie - The Mirror
Wash your face before your faded make-up makes a mark
The mirror will watch over you
Pierrot never comes so pack your face and chase the dark
The mirrors hung up on you
Dont be last, your friends and your reflection
Its all so direction now
Poor harlequin, youre quite an exception
Fay troubadour, on a downer
Gay harlequin, doesnt believe in you
Doesnt believe its true, such a downer.
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