CORRECTAR LA LETRA
Letra : The Court Of The Crimson King (BBC Radio Sessions, 1969)
The earth is captive to the moon
Some seek the rising sun
I walk the road on wings of change
The game has just begun
The purple piper plays his tune
The choir softly sing
Three lullabies in an ancient tongue
For the court of the crimson king, aah
Aah, aah
The burnt-out-ash suburban men
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, aah
Aah, aah
Aah, aah
Aah, aah
The gardener plants an evergreen
Whilst trampling on a flower
I chased the wind of a prism ship
To taste the sweet and sour
The pattern juggler lifts his hand;
The orchestra begin
As sparks fly from the grinding wheel
In the court of the crimson king, aah
Aah, aah
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, aah
Aah, aah
Aah, aah
Some seek the rising sun
I walk the road on wings of change
The game has just begun
The purple piper plays his tune
The choir softly sing
Three lullabies in an ancient tongue
For the court of the crimson king, aah
Aah, aah
The burnt-out-ash suburban men
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, aah
Aah, aah
Aah, aah
Aah, aah
The gardener plants an evergreen
Whilst trampling on a flower
I chased the wind of a prism ship
To taste the sweet and sour
The pattern juggler lifts his hand;
The orchestra begin
As sparks fly from the grinding wheel
In the court of the crimson king, aah
Aah, aah
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, aah
Aah, aah
Aah, aah