Time

We've just received a ransom letter for Little Prime Minister Frank. The kidnappers want time in exchange for the leader of life-sized Frank's reason (by the way, life-sized Frank is me).

Time doesn't come cheap. It's one of those currencies that is hard to get a hand on nowadays. There's work, there's sleep... then, what's left? Time spent typing messages on a blog that may or may not be read. Time spent watching TV, because any other type of activity seems oh so tiring. The expression "quality time" is laughable. The quality of my time is so crappy that I couldn't get anything in return should I try to sell it. Aren't there governmental regulatory commissions preventing time from getting that awful. You know, bad time can be harmful. It's like poison. No, it's like a flesh-eating bacteria, biting your soul one second at a time.

Think about it. Can anyone help me make my time better?

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Time, Pink Floyd

Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
You fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way
Kicking around on a peice 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 its sinking
And racing around to come up behind you again
The sun is the same in a realative 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 naught or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way
The time has gone, the song is over, thought I'd something more to say

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I love Pink Floyd.