Knife Edge

by Emerson, Lake and Palmer



Just a step, cried the sad man,

Take a look down at the madman.

Bearded kings on silver wings

Fly beyond reason.

From the flight of the seagull,

Come the spread claws of the eagle

Only fear breaks the silence,

As we all kneel, pray for guidance.



Tread the room, cross the abyss,

Take a look down at the madness.

On the streets of the city,

Only spectres still have pity.

Patient queues for the gallows,

Sing the praises of the hallows.

Our machines feed the furnace,

If they take us, they will burn us.



Will you still know who you are

When you come to who you are?



When the flames have their season

Will you hold to your reason?

Will you die with your chance?

Can you still keep your balance?

Can you wake from the nightmare?



Transcribed by Rich Kulawiec, rsk@ecn.purdue.edu