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
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
Peter Hammill
Peter Hammill
Peter Hammill
Peter Hammill
Peter Hammill
Peter Hammill
Peter Hammill
Taking the back road to the airport
Wasn’t such a bright idea
He could have come so badly unstuck
But his luck held out and he’s in the clear
This might have happened
And all that might have been
Ascud below, before him
The landscape slowly flows
It follows that he’ll follow
However it unfolds
If this hadn’t happened
All that might not have been
His head among the passing clouds
Holds on to what he’s got
Unable to remember what
It was that he forgot
This might have happened
And all that might have been
If this hadn’t happened
All that might not have been
This might have happened
And all that might have been