Sinfield just pips Neil Peart as the greatest poetic lyricist in rock music. Check out In The Wake of Poseidon:
Plato's spawn cold ivyed eyes Snare truth in bone and globe Harlequins coin pointless games Sneer jokes in parrot's robe Two women weep, dame Scarlet screen Sheds sudden theater rain, Whilst dark in dream the midnight queen Knows every human pain
In air, fire, earth and water World on the scales Air, fire, earth and water Balance of change World on the scales On the scales
Bishop's kings spin judgment's blade Scratch "faith" on nameless graves Harvest hags hoard ash and sand Rack rope and chain for slaves Who fireside fear fermented words Then rear to spoil the feast Whilst in the aisle the mad man smiles To him it matters least
Heroes hands drain stones for blood To whet the scaling knife Magi blind with visions light Net death in dread of life Their children kneel in jesus till They learn the price of nail, Whilst all around our mother earth Waits balanced on the scales
"Papel que surge de su estómago de hierro Un yak del Tibet ruge a un águila de piedra. Rostros impermeables observan las sacudidas de osos chillones. Alrededor de un reloj loco que repiquetea"