Strange Orchestras
Marc Bolan
Saw a face in a conical of lace, it was a strange orchestra
Mannikin skin pounding on a bass-drum, strange orchestra
Lillipution, evil in the eyes of the man with the leaf harp
He lusts for the urchin hiding under mountains of moleskin
A big cat like t-tyrannosaurus going to Lilliput
The ensemble make a tiny rumble, the celloist solos
The sky blackens and the bass string slackens and they stand statuesquely
Then they giggle and they wiggle through the door in the big dark oak tree