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
The Piper smile plays on her lips
And holds him in an iron grip
That promises so much if he'll just stay
Inklings, darling, dark inklings are arcing
Through the links between the lines
And caught up in the moment
He's so eager to receive the gift she gives
But her smile does not betray
What she might give away