As I hurtle towards middle age, I find Time by Pink Floyd more and more relevant
Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
Fritter and waste the hours in an off-hand way
Kicking aroundon a piece of ground in your home town
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way
Tired of lying inthe sunshine staying home to watch the rain
You are young and life is long and there istimeto kill today
And then one day you find ten years have got behind you
No one told you when torun, you missed the starting gun
And you runand you runto catch up withthe sun butit's sinking
Racing aroundto come up behind you again
The sun isthe same in a relative way, but you're older
Shorter of breath and one day closer to death
Every yearis getting shorter, never seem to find thetime
Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging onin quiet desperation isthe English way
The timeis gone, the song isover, thought I'd something more tosay
Home, home again
I like to be here when I can
And when I come home cold and tired
It's good to warm my bones besidethe fire
Far away, across the field
The tolling ofthe iron bell
Calls the faithful to their knees
To hear the softly spoken magic spell
As I hurtle towards middle age, I find Time by Pink Floyd more and more relevant
Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day Fritter and waste the hours in an off-hand way Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town Waiting for someone or something to show you the way Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the rain You are young and life is long and there is time to kill today And then one day you find ten years have got behind you No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun And you run and you run to catch up with the sun but it's sinking Racing around to come up behind you again The sun is the same in a relative way, but you're older Shorter of breath and one day closer to death Every year is getting shorter, never seem to find the time Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way The time is gone, the song is over, thought I'd something more to say Home, home again I like to be here when I can And when I come home cold and tired It's good to warm my bones beside the fire Far away, across the field The tolling of the iron bell Calls the faithful to their knees To hear the softly spoken magic spell
This was my answer. Particularly the line about every year getting shorter.