Amazon.com: Time Of The Season (Electric Blue Vinyl): CDs & Vinyl

About the Song

The Zombies, a British rock band formed in the mid-1960s, were one of the pioneers of the British Invasion movement. Their 1968 hit “Time of the Season” is a timeless classic that continues to be loved by fans around the world.

The song’s lyrics are a reflection of the social and political changes that were taking place in the late 1960s. The lines “The time of the season, when love is free, And flowers grow for all to see,” speak to the growing movement for peace and equality, while the lines “Let the world go round, let the world go round, And let the world go round” express a sense of optimism and hope for the future.

The music of “Time of the Season” is equally timeless. The catchy melody and upbeat tempo make it a perfect song for dancing and singing along. The harmonies of the vocal group add a touch of sophistication and depth to the song, creating a truly unforgettable musical experience.

One of the most striking aspects of the song is its timeless quality. Despite being written over 50 years ago, “Time of the Season” still resonates with audiences today. Its message of hope and change is as relevant now as it was when the song was first released.

What makes this song so enduring? Perhaps it’s the universal theme of hope and change, the catchy melody, or the timeless lyrics. Whatever the reason, “Time of the Season” continues to be one of the most beloved songs of all time.

In conclusion, “Time of the Season” is a testament to the enduring power of music. It’s a song that has touched the hearts of millions and will continue to do so for generations to come. If you’re looking for a classic rock song that will never go out of style, “Time of the Season” is a must-listen.The Zombies' Colin Blunstone reveals story behind 'Time of the Season,' band's early financial woes

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Lyrics: Time Of The Season

It’s the time of the season
When love runs high
In this time, give it to me easy
And let me try with pleasured hands(To take you in the sun to) Promised lands
(To show you every one)
It’s the time of the season for lovingWhat’s your name? (What’s your name?)
Who’s your daddy? (Who’s your daddy?)
(He rich) Is he rich like me?
Has he taken (Has he taken)
Any time (Any time)
(To show) To show you what you need to live?(Tell it to me slowly) Tell you what
(I really want to know)
It’s the time of the season for loving

What’s your name? (What’s your name?)
Who’s your daddy? (Who’s your daddy?)
(He rich) Is he rich like me?
Has he taken (Has he taken)
Any time (Any time)
(To show) To show you what you need to live?

(Tell it to me slowly) Tell you what
(I really want to know)
It’s the time of the season for loving

You Missed

THE SONGS AREN’T HIS ANYMORE—THEY BELONG TO THE 60,000 PEOPLE WHO REFUSE TO LET THE MUSIC STOP. There is a powerful, heavy silence that sits at the center of every Randy Travis concert, but it is never empty. Since the 2013 stroke that claimed his ability to sing and nearly took his life, the performance has evolved into something far more intimate than a standard tour. It has become a conversation between a legend who can no longer speak his truths and a world that refuses to forget them. For two years and 54 cities, Randy Travis has walked onto stages not to perform, but to be witnessed. With his wife, Mary, beside him and his original band anchoring the sound, the shows feature James Dupré taking on the vocal heavy lifting—but the real singer in the room is the crowd. Every night, thousands of voices bridge the gap left by aphasia. They handle the verses of “Three Wooden Crosses” and “On the Other Hand,” turning arenas into something resembling a massive, tear-filled revival. When Randy mouths the lyrics alongside them, he isn’t just watching a show—he is reclaiming his own catalog through the lungs of the people who grew up listening to it. The climax of the night is always the same: the final song. As the music fades and the band holds steady, Randy Travis takes the microphone. The man who was silenced by a stroke delivers the only word he needs to bridge the distance between his past and his present. He says, “Amen.” People often wonder why he continues to tour, why he chooses the grueling pace of the road when he could rest in the quiet of his home. But when you see the room “come apart” in that final moment, the answer is clear: this isn’t a farewell tour. It’s a reciprocal healing. The fans show up to give him back the songs he gave them, and he shows up to remind them—and himself—that while the voice may have changed, the spirit remains exactly where it always was. He is calling the tour More Life, and he has earned every syllable of that title. He is living proof that a legacy isn’t built on the perfection of a vocal performance, but on the connection that survives long after the ability to sing has faded.