The Howler - King Crimson

Here is the angel of the world’s desire

Placed on trial

To hide in shrouded alley sihouettes

With cigarette coiled

To stike at passing voices

Dark and suspect

Here is the howling ire

Here is the sacred face of rendevous

In subway sour

Whose grand delusions prey like intellect

In lunatic minds

Intent and focused on The long thin matches

To light the howling fire…

No, no, not me,

Burn, I don’t wanna burn…