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


Lyrics submitted by oofus

Wind Quartets [BBC Radio One Top Gear, 25/08/68] Lyrics as written by Marc Bolan

Lyrics © NORTH HUDSON MUSIC

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Wind Quartets song meanings
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