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In the Court of the Crimson King - King Crimson - 1969 Island 
testi
21st Century Schizoid Man - Peter Sinfield
I Talk to the Wind - Peter Sinfield
Epitaph - Peter Sinfield
Moonchild - Peter Sinfield
The Court of the Crimson King - Peter Sinfield
21st Century Schizoid Man
Cat's foot iron claw
Neuro-surgeons scream for more
at paranoia's poison door
Twenty first century schizoid man.
Blood rack barbed wire
Polititians' funeral pyre
Innocents raped with napalm fire
Twenty first century schizoid man.
Death seed blind man's greed
Poets' starving children bleed
Nothing he's got he really needs
Twenty first century schizoid man.
I Talk to the Wind
Said the straight man to the late man
"Where have you been"
"I've been here and I've been there
and I've been in between".
I talk to the wind
my words are all carried away
I talk to the wind
the wind does not hear
the wind cannot hear.
I'm on the outside looking inside
"What do I see"
"Much confusion, disillusion
all around me".
I talk to the wind
my words are all carried away
I talk to the wind
the wind does not hear
the wind cannot hear.
You don't possess me
Don't impress me
just upset my mind
Can't instruct me or conduct me
just use up my time
I talk to the wind
My words are all carried away
I talk to the wind
the wind does not hear
the wind cannot hear.
Said the straight man to the late man
"Where have you been"
"I've been here and I've been there
and I've been in between".
Epitaph
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.
Between the iron gates of fate,
the seeds of time were sown,
and watered by the deeds of those
who know and who are known;
Knowledge is a deadly friend
It' s no one sets the rules.
The fate of all mankind I see
Is in the hands of fools.
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.
Moonchild
Call her moonchild
Dancing in the shallows of a river
Lovely moonchild
Dreaming in the shadow of the willow.
Talking to the trees of the cobweb strange
Sleeping on the steps of a fountain
Waving silver wands to the night-birds song
Waiting for the sun on the mountain.
She's a moonchild
Gathering the flowers in a garden.
Lovely moonchild
Drifting on the echoes of the hours.
Sailing on the wind
in a milk white gown
Dropping circle stones on a sun dial
Playing hide and seek with the ghosts of dawn
Waiting for a smile from a sun child.
(quindi inizia la parte strumentale)
The Court of the Crimson King
The rusted chains of prison moons
are shattered by the sun.
I walk a road, horizons change
the tournament's 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 keeper of the city keys
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 chase the wind of a prism ship
to taste the sweet and sour.
The pattern juggler lifts his hand;
the orchestra begin.
As slowly turns 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 gentle pulls the strings
and smiles as the puppets dance
in the court of the crimson king.
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