Terminus - Ralph McTell

Finally the moment’s

Come and here we stand

And all the words have gone

Along with all the plans

And though the hands

Are surely moving on the clock

For us, this moment

Time itself has stopped

Our early-morning eyes

Still feel a little sore

And bodies sweetly aching

From the night before

I can feel

The cold platform through my shoes

There must be something to be said

But what’s the use?

The wind picks up some paper

Blows it past our feet

We watch it grateful

That our eyes don’t have to meet

A screaming whistle rips the air

And takes away

The last seconds we have shared

And still photographs

The train begins its run

And suddenly all the words

I should have said had come

Someone touches me

And asks me for a light

And wonders if

I’m feeling quite alright

And I say yes

On another platform there’s a train

The same old scene is to be shot again

The wind picks up some paper

And with it I shall ride

Out through the door marked «Exit»

Into the world ouside