Friday, April 4, 2008

"Time" by Pink Floyd

Some of the greatest philosophers of any time period are the song writers of that particular era. Now, don't take that as a rule, as in songwriter=philosopher, alot of lyrics really have no depth to them whatsoever so don't hurt yourself trying to read into them. At the same time however, those types of songs will often tell us a lot about the current culture, which can be depressing. I love song lyrics though. Especially those of the great songwriters. Often times I'll be listening to a song and a line will catch my attention and I'll google the lyrics and read through them. The best of this current era in my opinion is John Mayer, but thats just my opinion. Greg Boyd -pastor of Woodland Hills Chuch in Minnesota- mentioned the lyrics to a Pink Floyd song entitled "Time" in his sermon the other Sunday. I found them extrememly telling, especially since yesterday I felt like I was about to collapse under the burden of what seems like an insane amount of things going on in my life right now. So I thought I'd pass them on. Also I just finished purchasing this album on Itunes because I've heard a lot of good about Pink Floyd and this album is supposedly one of the defining albums of the past few decades. So here they are, hopefully they're a good reminder to you as they were to me.

By Pink Floyd

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
And 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
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 nought
Or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desparation is the English way
The time is gone
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
To hear the softly spoken magic spells