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wind quartets - marc bolan lyrics

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the wind quartet howls softly
my jeep hand strokes her necklace
crusted, crammed with old etruscan gold.

her bird head torn with summer
inspects a spartan runner
robbing time a chosen prince of speed

my goblet drenched with autumn
tears for my dead cat ena
silver surfer sorcerer of spray.

she headed deep in chartreuse
a falcon glimpse of white teeth
separated by lace cinnamon folds.

we hid and rid in hansom
cab wrenched from lost byzantium
lordlett who once held the earth in chains

- marc bolan lyrics

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