Song
Ten Years Without the Starman
Oneirina was seventeen when David Bowie died, and 'Ten Years Without the Starman' looks back from a decade’s distance at the influence he left behind. From Brixton and Ziggy to Berlin, Blackstar and beyond, it’s a love letter to an artist who made strangeness feel like possibility — and taught generations of outsiders that they didn’t need to fit in. The Starman is gone, but his signal is still travelling, woven into every new generation that dares to make something strange.
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Words
Lyrics
Verse
I was seventeen, London in a winter hush,
Headphones like a chapel, like a secret rush.
Newsprint on the bus stop, January turning grey,
And every street felt wider when your light went away.
Flowers by a Brixton face in spray-paint bloom,
A quiet little universe, a candle in the gloom.
Pre Chorus
You left a final signal in a darkened star,
A coded kind of kindness from so very far.
Chorus
So I dance in threes — one, two, three — through the static and the glow,
Learning how to change my shape, learning how to let it show.
If there’s a “hero” in the mirror, it’s the part you made in me,
Still chasing “Life on Mars?” in every broken melody.
Ten years without the starman — and the sky still knows your name,
You taught the world to be itself, then set it all aflame.
Verse
You wore a dozen futures like a perfectly-cut suit,
Then shed them like a myth you didn’t need to persecute.
Ziggy in the spotlight, lightning down the bone,
A lad from South London teaching aliens our tone.
Major Tom above me, Thin White Duke below,
Berlin on the reel-to-reel where cold synth rivers flow.
Pre Chorus
You said: don’t stay the same just to keep them calm —
Make art from the oddness; make a scar a charm.
Chorus
So I dance in threes — one, two, three — through the static and the glow,
Learning how to change my shape, learning how to let it show.
If there’s a “hero” in the mirror, it’s the part you made in me,
Still chasing “Life on Mars?” in every broken melody.
Ten years without the starman — and the sky still knows your name,
You taught the world to be itself, then set it all aflame.
Bridge
Under pressure, I’m still breathing — I’m still brave enough to try,
Spinning little constellations from the noise behind my eye.
I cut my voice with shimmer, I reverse the drums for fun,
Turn heartbreak into “Changes” till it sounds like becoming.
And when I’m lost in neon, when the room forgets my face,
I hear you whisper: make it strange — and I find my place.
Chorus
So I dance in threes — one, two, three — through the static and the glow,
Not a copy, not a tribute made of second-hand hello —
But a new bright misfit gospel for the kids who can’t belong,
For every tender outsider who still needs a starman song.
Ten years without the starman — and the culture still rewrites:
You didn’t just sing about the stars…
You taught us how to shine.
Outro
Blackstar in the skyline, turning grief into design;
If love is an amplifier — your echo’s still in mine.