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