Текст песни Pink Floyd - Pulse - Time

Time

Music: Nick Mason, Richard Wright, David Gilmour, Roger Waters
Text: Roger Waters
Vocal: David Gilmour, Richard Wright

About Song:
Time — одна из самых известных песен группы. Представляет собой семиминутную концептуальную рок-композицию, состоящую из двух практически независимых частей: развёрнутого инструментального intro и собственно песни. Time начинается с полифонического звона многочисленных часов и будильников, первоначально записанного Парсонсом для тестовой квадрофонической пластинки. Каждый звон был записан отдельно в различных антикварных магазинах. Далее следует партия ударных Ника Мэйсона, сопровождающаяся перебором двух басовых струн Уотерса. После инструментальной части звучит вокал Дэвида Гилмора, который поёт куплеты, припевы же поёт Ричард Райт, звучит также женский бэк-вокал. В конце композиции репризой звучит тема «Breathe». Гитарное соло Гилмора было помещено читателями американского журнала Guitar World на 21 место среди самых великих соло за всю историю. Композиция была использована в телесериале "Жизнь на Марсе".

Lyric:
Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
You fritter and waste the hours in an off hand 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

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

Тикают секунды, наполняя скучный день,
Ты разбрасываешься по мелочам и понапрасну тратишь время,
Вертишься вокруг клочка земли родного города,
В ожидании, что кто-то или что-то укажет тебе путь.

Надоело лежать на солнце и глазеть из окна на дождь,
Ты молод, жизнь длинна и есть время, чтобы убить сегодняшний день.
И вдруг ты замечаешь, что прибавил еще десяток лет,
Никто не сказал тебе, когда бежать, и ты прозевал выстрел стартового пистолета.

А ты бежал и бежал догоняя солнце, но оно ускользало
И обегая по кругу, снова вставало позади тебя.
Солнце относительно тоже, что и раньше, только ты постарел,
С перебоями в дыхании, на день ближе к смерти.

Каждый год все короче и короче, на все просто не хватает времени,
На планы, которые ни к чему не приводят, на полстранички поэтических каракуль.
Цепляться за жизнь со спокойным отчаяньем, в стиле англичан.
Время вышло, песня спета, думаю, я слишком многое сказал.

Time

Music: Nick Mason, Richard Wright, David Gilmour, Roger Waters
Text: Roger Waters
Vocal: David Gilmour, Richard Wright

About Song:
Time is one of the band’s most famous songs. It is a seven-minute conceptual rock composition, consisting of two practically independent parts: an expanded instrumental intro and the song itself. Time begins with the polyphonic ringing of numerous clocks and alarms, originally recorded by Parsons for a quadraphonic test record. Each ring was recorded separately in various antique stores. This is followed by Nick Mason's drums, accompanied by an exhaustive search of Waters' two bass strings. After the instrumental part, David Gilmour’s vocals are sung, which sings couplets, Richard Wright sings the choruses, and female back-vocals also sound. At the end of the composition, the theme “Breathe” sounds like a reprise. Gilmore’s guitar solo was placed by readers of the American magazine Guitar World at 21st place among the greatest solos in history. The composition was used in the television series Life on Mars.

Lyric:
Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
You fritter and waste the hours in an off hand 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

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

The seconds are ticking, filling a boring day
You scatter the little things and waste your time
Going around a patch of land in your hometown
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way.

Tired of lying in the sun and staring out of the window at the rain,
You are young, life is long and there is time to kill today.
And suddenly you notice that you’ve added ten more years,
No one told you when to run, and you missed the shot of the starting pistol.

And you ran and ran after the sun, but it slipped away
And running around in a circle, again stood behind you.
The sun is relatively the same as before, only you are old,
With interruptions in breathing, a day closer to death.

Every year shorter and shorter, there’s simply not enough time for everything,
For plans that lead to nothing, for half a page of poetic doodles.
Clinging to life with calm despair, in the style of the British.
Time is up, the song is sung, I think I have said too much.