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T. Rex

Wind Quartets

 

Wind Quartets

(álbum: Prophets, Seers & Sages: The Angels Of The Ages - 1968)


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.

feito

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