Marc Bolan şarkı sözleri
Woven deep beneath the caves of melted steelStalks a Mage, a necromancer heel,Tortured runic clasps of Aztecetian skill,The condor flies scared skies in search of Aznageel.Below the sun his withered weasel scurries deep.The streams of doom contrive to kiss his sculptured feet.His raven legs all churned and ruined through towers of prideAbove the sun the princely guardian condor flies.A beauty ruby fain it's worth twelve lives or more.He stammers as he slugs over the staggered floor.A chilled moment his dolphin eyes maul jewels of warO joy the sunlit condor unearths Aznagel's door.
