David Bowie - Eight line poem

^CTactful cactus by your ^Fwindow ^CSurvey the prairie of your ^Froom ^CMobile spins to its ^Dcollision ^EClara puts her head between her ^Fpaws ^CThey've opened shops down on the ^Fwestside ^CWill all the cacti find a ^Fhome? ^CBut the key to the ^Ecity Is in the ^Fsun that pins the ^Dsus4branches to the ^Gsky ^FOh...^Coh