Time
Pink Floyd
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
And 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 nought
Or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desparation 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
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
My Death
Jaques Brel
My death waits like an old roue'
so confident, I'll go his way
whistle to him
and the passing time...
my death waits like a bible truth
at the funeral of my youth
we drank for that -
the passing time..
my death waits like
a witch at night
as surely as our love is right
let's not think of that or the passing time
But whatever lies behind the door
there is nothing much to do...
angel or devil, I don't care
for in front of that door...
there is you.
My death waits like a beggar blind
who sees the world through an unlit mind
throw him a dime
for the passing time...
my death waits to allow my friends
a few good times
before it ends
let's not think about
the passing time..
my death waits there, between your thighs,
your cool fingers will close my eyes,
let's not think about the passing time.
For whatever lies behind the door
there is nothing much to do...
angel or devil, I don't care
for in front of that door...
there is you.
My death waits there among the leaves
in magician's mysterious sleeves,
rabbits and dogs, and the passing time...
my death waits there, among the flowers
where the blackest shadows cowers
so let's pick lilacs for
the passing time..
my death waits there, in a double bed
sails of oblivion and my head
so pull up your sheets against
the passing time.
But whatever lies behind the door
there is nothing much to do...
angel or devil, I don't care
for, in front of that door...
there is you.