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
So the last time that he saw her
He didn’t know quite where to look
Taking it for granted she was on her way...
There was no future calling
No winning tricks remained in play
It was the last time that they’d meet
And even though he knew this was goodbye for good
He couldn’t tell her
Just couldn’t find the words to say
What’s done is done
But nothing’s really over
Till she walks away
(And the story isn’t done
Until the hook’s been well and truly slung)
So the last time that he saw her
He didn’t know quite where to look
His stomach churned under the basilisk gaze
And so he’s burning until he turns away
And still he burns until she turns away
Until he turns away
Until he turns
She stays
(And the story isn’t done
Until the hook’s been played)