Marc Bolan - Wind Quartets lyrics

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