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
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.
King Crimson shocked the rock world in 1969 with it's "in your face" style of rock, including elements of modern, be-bop, and improvisational jazz, and, often-times, smashing the listener over the head with a sudden burst of "musique concrete". Epitaph, in a fashion of an almost elegilogical dirge, mixed with the poetic and prophetic lyrics of Peter Sinfield, alerts the listener to the bands' solid virtuosity, while awashing us with what for a while was, next to Fripp's 10,000 lb. guitar effects, King Crimson's signature instrument, the Mellotron. Classic, must have, in any library. jpl
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