LRC歌词
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
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
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
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
文本歌词
The rusted chains of prison moonsAre shattered by the sunI walk a road, horizons changeThe tournament's begunThe purple piper plays his tuneThe choir softly singThree lullabies in an ancient tongueFor the court of the crimson kingThe keeper of the city keysPut shutters on the dreamsI wait outside the pilgrims' doorWith insufficient schemesThe black queen chants the funeral marchThe cracked brass bells will ringTo summon back the fire witchTo the court of the crimson kingThe gardener plants an evergreenWhilst trampling on a flowerI chase the wind of a prism shipTo taste the sweet and sourThe pattern juggler lifts his handThe orchestra beginAs slowly turns the grinding wheelIn the court of the crimson kingOn soft grey mornings widows cryThe wise men share a jokeI run to grasp divining signsTo satisfy the hoaxThe yellow jester does not playBut gently pulls the stringsAnd smiles as the puppets danceIn the court of the crimson king
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