Pop just didn't have enough substance for me. All this nyah-nyah-nyah, you know, 'Paper Tiger' and 'Hold the Ladder, James' and 'Crimson and Clover.' That wasn't music!
From my time in 'King Crimson,' I'd describe a Progressive band as one that keeps trying to break musical barriers, and keeps trying to do new music.
Just another part of that Spartan killer instinct. I can slay the ladies just as well as I can reapers.
We thread our way through a moving forest of ice-cream cones and crimson thighs.
I know, darling. Your body speaks to me in ways your mouth would never agree to confessing.
Tsukiko sits on the floor in the center of the room, wearing a red kimono. A beating crimson heart in the pale chamber.
My heart battered against my ribs, my breath stalled and I gazed up into his laughing, smiling eyes...eyes that suddently glowed crimson and cruel.
Keen winter stabs the breasts of May Whose crimson roses burst his frost, Ships tempest-tossed Will find a harbour in some bay, And so may.
Gospel songs to me are about the mansion in the sky, and washed in the blood of Christ's crimson blood, songs that are filled with biblical wording that's no longer understood by a lot of people.
Waves crack with wicked fury against me ship's hull while ocean currents rage as the full moon rises o're the sea." (Cutthroat's Omen: A Crimson Dawn)
Touring with King Crimson wasn't a lot of fun for me. I had a lot of equipment, and when I was in improvised music I'd set it up myself, play the gig, and put it all away again.
My dad had once told me, crimson-red deep in “the talk,” that with sons, all he had to worry about was one penis, but with a daughter, he had to worry about everyone else’s.
It was the sort of bone deep emotion that made him want to hold her tighter with one hand, and draw a sword against the world with the other.
Before you go,mate,turn on the telly. Something raunchy too. Think I'll rub off one before I go to sleep
Some girls are sweeter… Others have a tinge of bitterness… It is as if I can smell their souls. Their experiences and relationships are painted in warm, sour crimson.
In my early performing days, I played gigs under the pseudonym Whitey McFearsun. I painted my face blue, wore crimson lipstick, and strung on some tight silver latex pants.
Vampires don't tan. Without UV protection, we get sunburned, heal, and just repeat the process over and over.” — Spade, First Drop of Crimson by Jeaniene Frost
THERE is something in the autumn that is native to my blood— Touch of manner, hint of mood; And my heart is like a rhyme, With the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time.
I denied Discordia and regret nothing; I have spat into the bodiless eyes of the Crimson King and rejoice; I threw my lot with the gunslinger and the White and never once questioned the choice.
As if Spade's chivalry would allow him to do anything to a woman. The harshest punishment she could imagine him dishing out to Cat would be refusing to open a door for her.
The riders, clad in crimson and black, stopped to scan the maze. Blaise shrank into the hedge, but one keen-eyed hunter spied him. He raised his crossbow, took careful aim and fired.
