(Fripp/McDonald/Lake/Giles/Sinfield)
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The wall on which the prophets wrote
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Is cracking at the seams.
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Upon the instruments if death
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The sunlight brightly gleams.
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When every man is torn apart
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With nightmares and with dreams,
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Will no one lay the laurel wreath
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As silence drowns the screams.
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Between the iron gates of fate,
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The seeds of time were sown,
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And watered by the deeds of those
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Who know and who are known;
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Knowledge is a deadly friend
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When no one sets the rules.
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The fate of all mankind I see
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Is in the hands of fools.
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Confusion will be my epitaph.
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As I crawl a cracked and broken path
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If we make it we can all sit back
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and laugh.
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But I fear tomorrow I'll be crying,
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Yes I fear tomorrow I'll be crying.
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-----------------
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Epitaph
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| King Crimson |
