Edge of the Road Peter Hammill

The lady was in waiting
For whatever story might unfold
Anticipating that somehow base metal would turn into gold
Yeh, she was always looking for a brighter spot
Eager to tap into the motherlode
At the edge of the road

A world of separation
Treasuring each pleasure and each pain
Distance is arching between them
A rainbow, no gold in the frame
Until the boy with a smile like forget-me-nots
Will finally come in from the rain
But he's out there still:
In the hourglass a sandstorm has stripped his sails
Only wanting to fill up his pockets
With the dust of all the bygone trails
Someday he'll make his way home
But will the man of the moment finally make himself known
And lay down his load
At the edge of the road?

The woman was in waiting
Less in expectation than in hope;
Maybe he'd come to his senses in a little while
If she just paid out plaits of flaxen rope
But he never will
In his heart there's the murmur of an alien disease
Waking up to the chill of the knowledge
That his travel's brought him to his knees
Nowhere is safe from all harm;
So will the man of her memory fall finally into her arms
(will the man of her memory be charmed?)
Before he explodes
At the edge of the road?