The Court of the Crimson King (Live in Hyde Park, London, 5th July 1969)

The dance of the puppets

The rusted chains of prison moons

Are shattered by the sun

I walk a road, horizons change

The tournaments 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

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 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 gentle pulls the strings

And smiles as the puppets dance

In the court of the crimson king