Schlagwort: Epitaph

Epitaph Songtext:

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 dream

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.

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.

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.

Yes, I fear, tomorrow I’ll be crying.

Crying, crying.

Yes, I fear, tomorrow I’ll be crying.

Yes, I fear, tomorrow I’ll be crying.

Yes, I fear, tomorrow I’ll be crying.

Writer(s): Robert Fripp, Peter John Sinfield, Greg Lake, Ian Mcdonald, Michael Rex Giles.