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    [King Crimson, 1969]

    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.

    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
    If 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 (if)
    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.

    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...
    Crying...

    Yes I fear tomorrow I'll be crying.
    Crying...
    Crying...
    Crying...

    Yes I fear tomorrow I'll be crying.
    Crying...
    Crying...
    Cry...
    Cry...
    Cry...

    Cry...
    Cry...

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