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 the relative way, but you're older And 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
Breathe — reprise
Home, home again I like to be here when I can When I come in 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 spell