Hot Rod Mama

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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


Autor(es): Marc Bolan

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