Когда тебе восемнадцать, сорокалетние кажутся стариками. Они так далеко от тебя - между вами целая вселенная - ведь до их сорока даже дольше, чем до твоего рождения, а ты живешь уже целых 18 лет, все понял и смертельно устал. Ты все понял и смертельно устал за 18 лет, а этим сорок и ты думаешь, что «никогда не станешь таким», «лучше умрешь, чем
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все проходит и это тоже пройдет (с)
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не, ну правда!
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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.
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.
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.
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(C) рок-группа "Пинк Флойд"
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