King Crimson ....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 as silence drowns the screams.
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....