Hunter Creek
See the little room where a princess did lay
Cut up all the string and let her fade away
There's nothing here to be won
There's no more words to be sung
See the ginseng heads with their legs made of spine
Throw away the cup and never taste it again
There's nothing here to be won
There's no more words to be sung
Come to Hunter Creek...with me, with me
Autor(es): Simon Poore