Marc Bolan

Marc Bolan - Stacey Grove songtekst

Je score:

Stacey Grove he's a roaming prophet of mine, 

Hat full of wine. 

Stacey Grove he's a roving catcher of skies, 

Forecaster of eyes, so no lies. 



Dungaree dome is decked like a pagan temple to Zeus 

He drinks acorn juice. 



Roasting his feet by the furnace of peat, 

He roars at the boars who massively sleep at his feet. 



Antelope head his beard skylark red 

Is tucked 'neath the good of his summer sun hood. 

And now that the gate of his evening is late 

He sits on a log picking ticks off the back of his dog. 



Oh he's a nice cat
Vind dit lied op:
bol.com
amazon.com

Copyrights:

Auteur: ?

Componist: ?

Publisher: ?

Details:

Taal: Engels

Deel je mening

Dit formulier wordt beschermd door reCAPTCHA en de Google Privacy Policy en Servicevoorwaarden zijn daarbij van toepassing.

0 Reacties gevonden