60's Rock

King Crimson - In the Court of the Crimson King

King Crimson

In The Court Of The Crimson King

Robbie Rocks
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21st Century Schizoid Man
back to YouTube

I Talk To The Wind
back to YouTube

Epitaph including March for no Reason
and Tomorrow and Tomorrow
back to YouTube

Moonchild including The Dream and The Illusion
back to YouTube

The Court of the Crimson King
back to YouTube

Robert Fripp - guitar
Ian McDonald - reeds, woodwind, vibes, keyboards, mellotron, vocals
Greg Lake - bass guitar, lead vocals
Michael Giles - drums, percussion, vocals
Perer Sinfield - words and illumination

Play the Rockword puzzle, answers in the lyrics.

Side 1.
1. 21st Century Schiziod Man *YouTube
2. I Talk To The Wind *YouTube
3. Epitaph including *YouTube
March For No Reason and
Tomorrow And Tomorrow

Side 2.
1. Moonchild including
The Dream and
The Illusion
2. The Court Of The Crimson King including *YouTube
The Return Of The Fire Witch and
The Dance Of The Puppets
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21st Century Schizoid Man including Mirrors
(Fripp, McDonald, Lake, Giles, Sinfield)

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.


top

I Talk To The Wind
(McDonald, Sinfield)

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.

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.
top

Epitaph including March for no Reason and Tomorrow and Tomorrow
(Fripp, McDonald, Lake, Giles, Sinfield)

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
As silence drowns the screams.

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
When no one sets the rules.
The fate of all mankind I see
Is in the hands of fools.

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.
top

Moonchild including The Dream and The Illusion

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.

top

The Court Of The Crimson King
including The Return of the Fire Witch and The Dance of the Puppets
(McDonald, Sinfield)

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
Puts 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.

  HOME
  TOP 10 LP'S : 1969
  KING CRIMSON
  GROUPS : H-O
  TOP 10 SINGLES
  ROCKWORDS
  ROB'S PIC'S
  ROBBIE'S ROCKS
  THE PIT
  CONCERTS
  ROCK SHOP : CDs
  YOUTUBE INDEX

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