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 shatters 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 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 doesn't play But gently pulls the strings And smiles as the puppets dance In the court of the crimson king