Confusión

Declaración de intenciones en vida antes de morir, de escribirlo como epitafio.


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,
when 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.
But 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,
the sunlight, brightly gleams.
When every man, is torn apart,
with nightmares, and with dreams.
Will no one lay, the laurel wreath,
when 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.
But I fear, tomorrow, I'll be crying, crying, crying.

KING CRIMSON - EPITAFIO