Marc Bolan Trelawny Lawn
The flowing mane of pain swells on Trelawny Lawn
Stark handsome eyes decide the unicorn
Is a beast of borrowed wisdom
Like a thrush in the yielding harvest field
The prophet deems snow.
The silent stork of sadness scans Trelawny Lawn
The lion, the unicorn it's horn in the lap of Beth
Laments the dawn
Beguiled, the scribish jacket-man his cap a skull-of-rat
Is but a pawn.
0 sky, your eyes embrace is to vicious for my wheat
The foaming Earthguard whinneys to his leaden feet
The bullfinch rumbles
The lavish lion aslanically scythes the hay
The unicorn bids you stay.
