| 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 hometown |
| Waiting for someone or something to show you the way |
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| 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 |
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| 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 |
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| 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 |
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| 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 |
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| Far away across the field, the tolling of the iron bell |
| Calls the faithful to their knees |
| To hear the softly spoken magic spells |