01. Promenade             [Мусоргский]           (0:00)
02. The Gnome             [Мусоргский, Palmer]     (1:57)
03. Promenade             [Мусоргский, Lake]      (6:13)
04. The Sage              [Lake]                 (7:36)
05. The Old Castle           [Мусоргский, Emerson]   (12:18)
06. Blues Variation            [Emerson, Lake, Palmer]   (14:51)
07. Promenade             [Мусоргский]           (19:24)
08. The Hut of Baba Yaga     [Мусоргский]            (20:45)
09. The Curse of Baba Yaga  [Emerson, Lake, Palmer]   (21:58)
10. The Hut of Baba Yaga     [Мусоргский]            (26:07)
11. The Great Gates of Kiev   [Мусоргский, Lake]      (27:14)
12. Nutrocker              [Чайковский, Fowley]    (33:52)
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Promenade 

Lead me from tortured dreams 
Childhood themes of nights alone. 
Wipe away endless years, 
Childhood tears as dry as stone. 

From seeds of confusion, 
Illusions dark blossoms have grown. 
Even now in furrows of sorrow 
The dark still is sown. 

My life's course is guided 
Decided by limits drawn 
On charts of my past ways 
And pathways since I was born.
____

The Sage

I carry the dust of a journey 
That cannot be shaken away 
It lives deep within me 
For I breathe it every day 

You and I are yesterdays answers 
The earth of the [bad word] to flesh 
Eroded by times rivers 
To the shapes we now possess.  [bad word] share of my breath and my substance 
And mingle our streams and our times 
In bright infinite moments 
Our reasons are lost in our rhymes.
____

The Curse Of Baba Yaga

Troubled faces tried defense
Talk too all but talk no sense
Gallop through now smiling eyes
Cut us up with smiling knives

Cut the quick to raise the dead
Feeding those who are fed
Drain the blood from hearts of stone
Whores and hustlers pick the bone
____

The Great Gates Of Kiev [bad word] forth, from love spire
Born in life's fire,
Born in life's [bad word] forth, from love's spire
In the burning, all are (of our) yearning,
For life to be.
And the pain will (must) be gain,
New life!
Stirring in, salty streams
And dark hidden seams
Where the fossil sun gleams.

They were, sent from the gates
Ride the tides of fate,
Ride the tides of fate.
They were, sent from the gates
In the burning of our yearning,
For life to be.

There's no end to my life,
No beginning to my death
Death is life.