Tekster: Procol Harum. Conquistador.

(Brooker / Reid)

Conquistador your stallion stands
in need of company
and like some angel's haloed brow
you reek of purity
I see your armour-plated breast
has long since lost its sheen
and in your death mask face
there are no signs which can be seen
And though I hoped for something
to find
I could see no maze to unwind
Conquistador a vulture sits
upon your silver shield
and in your rusty scabbard now
the sand has taken seed
and though your jewel-encrusted blade
has not been plundered still
the sea has washed across your face
and taken of its fill
And though I hoped for something
to find
I could see no maze to unwind
Conquistador there is no time
I must pay my respect
and though I came to jeer at you
I leave now with regret
and as the gloom begins to fall
I see there is no, only all
and though you came with sword held high
you did not conquer, only die
And though I hoped for something
to find
I could see no maze to unwind