Epitaph/ The Court Of The Crimson King

Epitaph/ The Court Of The Crimson King - Greg Lake

The wall on which the prophets wrote

Is cracking at the seams

Upon the instruments of death

The sunlight brightly gleams

When every man is torn apart

With nightmares and with dreams

Will no one lay the laurel wreath

When silence drowns the screams

Confusion will be my epitaph

As I crawl a cracked and broken path

If we make it we can all sit back and laugh

But I fear tomorrow I'll be crying

Yes I fear tomorrow I'll be crying

Yes I fear tomorrow I'll be crying

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 court of the crimson king