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In The Court Of The Crimson King by King Crimson
In The Court Of The Crimson King
Chords used in this song :
B
e ---|-o-|---|---|---|
B ---|---|---|-x-|---|
G ---|---|---|-x-|---|
D ---|---|---|-x-|---|
A ---|-x-|---|---|---|
E ---|-o-|---|---|---| C
e ---|---|---|---|---|
B -x-|---|---|---|---|
G ---|---|---|---|---|
D ---|-x-|---|---|---|
A ---|---|-x-|---|---|
E ---|---|-o-|---|---| D
e ---|-x-|---|---|---|
B ---|---|-x-|---|---|
G ---|-x-|---|---|---|
D ---|---|---|---|---|
A ---|---|---|---|---|
E ---|---|---|---|---| E
e ---|---|---|---|---|
B ---|---|---|---|---|
G -x-|---|---|---|---|
D ---|-x-|---|---|---|
A ---|-x-|---|---|---|
E ---|---|---|---|---|
F
e -x-|---|---|---|---|
B -x-|---|---|---|---|
G ---|-x-|---|---|---|
D ---|---|-x-|---|---|
A ---|---|-x-|---|---|
E -x-|---|---|---|---| Em
e ---|---|---|---|---|
B ---|---|---|---|---|
G ---|---|---|---|---|
D ---|-x-|---|---|---|
A ---|-x-|---|---|---|
E ---|---|---|---|---| Am
e ---|---|---|---|---|
B -x-|---|---|---|---|
G ---|-x-|---|---|---|
D ---|-x-|---|---|---|
A ---|---|---|---|---|
E ---|---|---|---|---| G
e ---|---|-x-|---|---|
B ---|---|---|---|---|
G ---|---|---|---|---|
D ---|---|---|---|---|
A ---|-x-|---|---|---|
E ---|---|-x-|---|---|
Main Theme ( / = 1 beat, | = Bar line, * = sharp)
|D / / / |C(b5) / C / | Bsus4 / B /| B / / /|
Bass over last bar of B is B C* D* E F* B
Em D C(b5) B
The rusted chains of prison moons are shattered by the sun.
Em D C(b5) B
I walk a road, horizons change, the tournament's begun.
Am G Em B
The purple piper plays his tune, the choir softly sing;
Em D C(b5) D
Three lullabies in an ancient tongue, for the court of the crimson king.
Main Theme
Flute Solo
over
|D / / / |C / / / |D / / / |C / / / |D / / / |C / / / |B / / / |
The keeper of the city keys puts shutters on the dreams.
I wait outside the pilgrim's 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 gentle pulls the strings
And smiles as the puppets dance in the court of the crimson king.
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