Peter Hammill
Peter Hammill
Peter Hammill
Peter Hammill
Peter Hammill
Peter Hammill
Peter Hammill
Peter Hammill
Peter Hammill
Peter Hammill
Peter Hammill
Peter Hammill
Peter Hammill
Peter Hammill
Once spoken
Words perfume the air
Like woodsmoke, like a breath of self that's no longer there
Such confidence
Such half-baked truth...
The sound of distant voices mocks the hubris of youth