Some songs fade. Others just keep getting sharper with age. Time is one of those.

Back in 1973, Roger Waters (aged 28) had a realization: he was waiting for life to "begin," only to figure out that it already had. That thought turned into Time, a song that starts with a jolt—literal alarm clocks ringing in your ears—before delivering one of the most brutal truths in rock history:

"And then, one day, you find, ten years have got behind you
No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun."

Ouch.

Still Relevant, Maybe Even More

Fast forward to today. AI is making music, writing poetry, even creating digital versions of people who never existed. Meanwhile, we scroll, swipe, and "like" lives that aren’t even real—filtered, curated, edited.

And here we are, still waiting for someone or something to show us the way.

"Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way."

Not just the English way anymore, Roger. It’s the Instagram way. The TikTok way. The "maybe next year" way.

But Time doesn’t care about your excuses. It keeps moving. And that’s the point—whether you spend your days "kicking around on a piece of ground in your hometown" or chasing a dream, the clock won’t stop ticking.

Live It, Now

Look, it doesn’t matter if you’re 16 or 60. If you love prog rock or think it’s just "old people music." Your time starts now.

Tell this girl you love her—no matter what.

Start that project. Take that trip. Call that friend.

Because one day, you’ll look back and wonder where it all went.

And Pink Floyd? They’ll still be there, reminding you that they tried to warn us.

Lyrics:

Ticking away the moments that make up the dull day
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

[David Gilmour & Richard Wright]
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 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

[ David Gilmour]
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 besid
E 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

What a timeless masterpiece ! 

poetry,Music,