When I write the word "Saturday" in english, I always think of the song "Come saturday morning", a song that I sort of grew up with: Come Saturday morning I'm goin' away with my friend We'll Saturday-spend till the end of the day Just I and my friend We'll travel for miles in our Saturday smiles And then we'll move on But we will remember long after Saturday's gone You know what the trouble is? Trouble is that probably all the good things in life Take place in no more than a minute I mean all I did, I, I bet you At the end of seventy years should you lose someone You can sit down, you can figure the whole thing out You spent nineteen years sleepin' You spent five years goin' to the bathroom You spent thirty-five years doin' Some kinda work you absolutely hated Spent seven thousand eight hundred and Fifty-three minutes blinkin' your eyes And added to that, you got that one minute of good things Then one day yo