Hot Rod Mama - Marc Bolan

Hot rod mama moving like a motor cycle devil in a race

Blown out my mind, I can’t keep up the pace

I’m selling all my midnight, still broke and living on the ground

My gone little mama cut out without a sound

With my greased-up levis

Baseball boots above my head

If it wasn’t such a tragedy

I might wish I was dead

She took my ice-cream mustang

And my purple coloured dodeville

She even took my panpipes and my elixir of life pill