I find that Pink Floyd's masterpiece is strangely applicable to a game of chess

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 hometown,

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'll 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 like 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 game is over

Thought I'd something more to play...

FritterAndWaste