Time (Mason, Waters, Wright, Gilmour) 7:06
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.
So 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.
This song reminds me so powerfully of certain lonely people. "Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way" is the line that hits me every time. I'm not exactly sure why. It's for all those people who might wind up dead if they weren't so stubborn, and/or unmotivated. They just stay out their lives in their same old ruts, getting greyer and greyer, like a blanched and spotted photocopy of themselves, day after day, year after year.
There's a reason my group in Speech class back when did Pink Floyd. It's powerful material, and it integrates well with itself. The three of us in that group of mine knew Floyd so well, and read it so well together, that we got full marks for having rehearsed together and worked our presentation out seamlessly together and really doing a good job on the teamwork. We'd worked together for two days on it -- one day deciding on an artist and parceling out the band's work by era, and then the morning of the presentation, getting together an hour before class started and running through the entire group speech together once. Another group in the same class had worked together for a week solid or so, carefully choosing poems on the same theme, working out how they'd present their theme. They got poor marks on their coordination.
Pink Floyd is serious music. I'm not sure I did it justice, reading it.