Time.

[corvus_tenebrae]

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 hometown.
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; one day closer to death.

Every year is getting shorter;
Never seem to find the time.
Plans that neither come to naught, or half a page of scribbled lines.
Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way.
The time is come,
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.
Hear the softly spoken magic spell.