Nothing has managed to happen

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!

I have made little effort at changing anything and that should be the root cause for this. I want to claim that I have understood the penalty of procrastinating; that I have started making amends. Truth is a bit dodgier than that. I have indeed made changes, but nothing that will drastically improve my existence. With time things should sort themselves out of course.

I realized that the month I was away doing nothing that I can really sum up, I wasted exactly that. A month. Come to think of it. It would appear I have wasted a heck lot more time than that. So I plan to not cry over the spilt or split milk, but to engross myself with tasks that will keep my head busy and prevent me from relapsing into the thought process I so detest.