King Crimson, In The Wake of Poseidon
Plato's spawn cold ivyed eyes
Snare truth in bone and globe.
Harlequins coin pointless games
Sneer jokes in parrot's robe.
[...]
Heroes hands drain stones for blood
To whet the scaling knife
Magi blind with visions light
Net death in dread of life.
Their children knill in Jesus till
They learn the price of nails:
Whilst all around our mother earth
Waits balanced on scales.
sábado, fevereiro 03, 2007
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2 comentários:
Olá, viva. Há muito tempo que não ouvia falar dos KCrimson. Bom memento! Abr. PF
Já cá estiveram, n'«O Vale do Riff». Abraço.
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