Marc Bolan
Hot Rod Mama
Hot rod mama moving like a motor cycle devil in a raceBlown out my mind, I can't keep up the paceI'm selling all my midnight, still broke and living on the groundMy gone little mama cut out without a soundWith my greased-up levis,Baseball boots above my headIf it wasn't such a tragedyI might wish I was deadShe took my ice-cream mustangAnd my purple coloured dodevilleShe even took my panpipes and my elixir of life pill
From Letras Mania