[00:28.966]The rusted chains of prison moons,[00:33.408]Are shattered by the sun,[00:36.912]I walk a road, horizons change,[00:41.381]The tournament's begun,[00:44.537]The purple piper plays his tune,[00:48.179]The choir softly sing,[00:51.637]Three lullabies in an ancient tongue,[00:55.689]For the court of the crimson king,[01:23.904]The keeper of the city keys,[01:29.389]Put shutters on the dreams,[01:32.982]I wait outside the pilgrim's door,[01:36.840]With insufficient schemes,[01:40.502]The black queen chants the funeral march,[01:44.034]The cracked brass bells will ring,[01:48.193]To summon back the fire witch,[01:51.052]To the court of the crimson king,[03:20.096]The gardener plants an evergreen,[03:24.388]Whilst trampling on a flower,[03:27.981]I chase the wind of a prism ship,[03:31.600]To taste the sweet and sour,[03:35.411]The pattern juggler lifts his hand,[03:38.778]The orchestra begin,[03:42.051]As slowly turns the grinding wheel,[03:45.647]In the court of the crimson king,[05:30.013]On soft gray mornings widows cry,[05:35.336]The wise men share a joke,[05:38.746]I run to grasp divining signs,[05:42.294]To satisfy the hoax,[05:46.028]The yellow jester does not play,[05:49.627]But gently pulls the strings,[05:53.330]And smiles as the puppets dance,[05:56.661]In the court of the crimson king。