i woke last night to the sound of thunder
how far off i sat and wondered
started humming a song from nineteen sixty two
aint it funny how the night moves
when you just dont seem to have as much to lose
strange how the night moves
with autumn closing in
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.