The Court of the Crimson King

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
 Put shutters on the dreams
 I wait outside the pilgrims' 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
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 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 grey 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