This timeless song of grief tolls the potential future legacy of mankind.

Epitaph

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
Yes, 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
Yes, I fear tomorrow I’ll be crying
Crying
Crying
Yes, I fear tomorrow I’ll be crying
Yes, I fear tomorrow I’ll be crying
Yes, I fear tomorrow I’ll be crying
Crying

Songwriters: Greg Lake, Ian McDonald, Michael Rex Giles, Peter John Sinfield, Robert Fripp
© Universal Music Publishing Group