Stacey Grove
T. Rex Lyrics

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

Written by: MARC BOLAN

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Comments from YouTube:

michael foley

I just love this song its magical I could listen to this for ever

Nicolas Bartolome

Muy bueno Geo. Espero que estes re bien y esperando respuestas tuyas. Siempre me acuerdo de vos. Exitos en la vida

raul macias

I makes my happy
that you walk my Earth
& me yours, we' are
all a tree, Old & brown
& Freindly.