Broken Hearted Blues - Marc Bolan

This is a song, that I wrote when I was young

And I call it, the broken hearted blues

The air on that night, was tempered like a knife

And the people wore the face masks of a clown

Don he was long, mis-shapen and forlorn

And his woman ran away without a smile

Days of the earth, are unbroken changeless turf

But the faces of the men are something else

In the wind, as a boy, was a spacious sexual toy

But baby, now he’s a toothless baggy man

When the hills of the sun, make you feel that you are young

Get good now, and face your face into the wind

This is a song, that I wrote when I was young

And I called it the broken hearted blues