Hot George Lyrics

Words & Music by Marc Bolan
Posthum Release
Recorded by Marc Bolan, 1977

You sound a little crazy,
But it could be the heat.
I'm roasted like a chestnut,
By the fire of your feet.
Your body is a furnace.
Your love is the coal.

So won't you tame your man,
Hot George.

Now Georgie was a female,
As females go.
She moved fast like a jaguar.
Melting all like snow.
She was a foxy heater.
Rotating like the sun.
So won't you tame your man,
Hot George.

Pavlovian fellow.
He was a bronzed style punk.
He drink up the rainbow,
To get his skull drunk.
He laid by the mission bell,
To keep his guns all creamed.
Why don't you understand?
Hot George.
Why don't you understand?
Hot George
Why don't you understand?
Hot George.
Why don't you understand?
Hot George.
Hot G-g-g-Georgie.
Hot G-g-g-Georgie.