The Court Of The Crimson King (BBC Radio Sessions, 1969)

The earth is captive to the moon
Some seek the rising sun
I walk the road on wings of change
The game has just begun

The purple piper plays his tune
The choir softly sing
Three lullabies in an ancient tongue
For The Court Of The Crimson King...

The burnt-out-ash suburban men
Put shutters on the dreams
I wait outside the pilgrim's door
With insufficient schemes

The black queen chants the funeral march
The cracked brass bells will ring
To summon back the fire witch
To The Court Of The Crimson King...

The gardener plants an evergreen
Whilst trampling on a flower
I chased the wind of a prism ship
To taste the sweet and sour

The pattern juggler lifts his hand
The orchestra begin
Sparks fly from the grinding wheel
In The Court Of The Crimson King...

On soft gray mornings widows cry
The wise men share a joke
I run to grasp divining signs
To satisfy the hoax

The yellow jester does not play
But gently pulls the strings
And smiles as the puppets dance
In the The Court Of The Crimson King...



Credits
Writer(s): Robert Fripp, Peter John Sinfield, Greg Lake, Ian Mcdonald, Michael Rex Giles
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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