It’s an illusion that hours of the day speed up as we get older. A classic  misdirection, a slight of hand on the face of a clock if you will.
The pace of time will never change. But it’s our sense of urgency of how much time we have remaining on this serendipitous wheel of fortune, that father time has spun, that has us reeling...

We've been here before
And its never been "amazing"
A word reserved for new beginnings
Not the same old same things
So familiar and worn
That its browning and aging
As if left out on the lawn
Because its not worth saving

To afford "amazing" would be amazing
But amazing is not a necessity
Other needs are more pressing
So it fades from our vocabulary
To make room for whats usable
Like things that aren't accessories
And like the boxes in the garage
It fades from our memories