Текст King Crimson – Exiles

Now… in this faraway land
Strange… that the palms of my hands
Should be damp with expectancy

Spring… and the air’s turning mild

Friends… do they know what I mean
Rain… and the gathering green
Of an afternoon out-of-town

But Lord I had to go
My trail was laid too slow behind me
To face the call of fame
Or make a drunkard’s name for me
Though now this other life
Has brought a different understanding
And from these endless days
Shall come a broader sympathy
And though I count the hours
To be alone’s no injury…

My home… was a place near the sand
Cliffs… and a military band
Blew an air of normality