Friday Afternoon - Peter Hammill

Why wait for life to happen

When right before our eyes

Blind fate unwraps its patterns?

I just said «See you soon»

My piano was in tune

When you walked out of the room

It felt like any normal Friday

At concert pitch, 440

The pressure’s many tons;

The weight of life befalls me

I wish I could pretend

My piano’s on the mend

You treated it like a friend, left it to settle down over the weekend

You’ve got a ticket on the terraces for the game on Saturday

And afterwards you might go for a beer

On Sunday afternoon you’ll take the family to the park

And later, when it’s getting dark

You’ll say «We've still got that old spark»

You’ll say «Oh, aren’t we just so lucky to be here…»

So stupid and so senseless…

Sometimes we’re pulled up short, quite shockingly defenceless

I don’t know what to do: my piano’s out of tune…

It’s not as if I can assume that it’s ever going to get any better now

A liquid lunch appointment when the working week is done

There’s time for one more just before he goes

A quick glance at the watch and now it’s time to head for home

And so it’s goodbye to the ladies

Grabs the keys to his Mercedes

Thinking «Maybe I should get a cab…»

But no

Blind drunk, he met you head on

On a normal Friday afternoon