Lyrics:

The wind quartet howls softly 
My jeep hand strokes her necklace 
Crusted, crammed with old Etruscan gold. 
Her bird head torn with summer 
Inspects a Spartan runner 
Robbing time a chosen Prince of Speed 
My goblet drenched with Autumn 
Tears for my dead cat Ena 
Silver Surfer sorcerer of spray. 
She headed deep in chartreuse 
A falcon glimpse of white teeth 
Separated by lace cinnamon folds. 
We hid and rid in hansom 
Cab wrenched from lost Byzantium 
Lordlett who once held the earth In chains.