Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
You fritter and waste the hours in an offhand 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
And 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 desparation is the English way
The time has gone, the song is over,
Thought I'd something more to say.
Home, home again
I like to be here when I can
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 spells.
You fritter and waste the hours in an offhand 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
And 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 desparation is the English way
The time has gone, the song is over,
Thought I'd something more to say.
Home, home again
I like to be here when I can
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 spells.
