Ralph McTell - Terminus

^CFinally the ^Em7moment’s ^Amcome and here we ^Gstand, And ^Call the words have ^Em7gone, a^Amlong with all the plans And though the ^Dmhands are surely ^Gmoving on the ^G7clock, For ^Cus, this moment, ^Amtime itself has s^Gtopped.

Our ^Cearly morning ^Em7eyes still feel a ^Amlittle sore ^G And ^Cbodies sweetly ^Em7aching from the ^Amnight before. I can ^Dmfeel ^F the cold ^Gplatform through my shoes. There ^Cmust be something to be said,^G but ^Amwhat's the ^Guse.

^C The wind picks up some ^Em7paper and it ^Amblows it past our feet ^CWe watch it, ^Em7grateful that our ^Ameyes don't have to meet. ^Dm A screaming ^Fwhistle ^G rips the air And takes a^Cway ^Emthe last ^Amseconds we have ^Gshared.

In still ^Cphotographs^Em7 the ^Amtrain begins its run And ^Call the words I ^Em7should've said ^Amsuddenly have ^Gcome. ^Dm Someone ^Ftouches me and ^Gasks me for a ^G7light, And wonders ^Cif ^G I'm ^Amfeeling quite all ^Gright, And I say, "^CYes".^{G Am G C G Am G}

^C On anot^Em7her ^Amplatform, there's a ^Ctrain. The same old ^Em7scene is ^Amto be shot again. The ^Dmwind picks up some ^Fpaper, and with it I shall ^G7ride Out ^Cthrough the door marked 'exit' in^Gto the ^Amworld out^Gside. ^C