Cronus how you make me weep,
how you take my time to keep,
this borrowed life of gift aplenty
cut so short the gems un-gently.
Wishing, oh, for so much more.
The tocking clock, the ticking score.
You are nothing without the eye,
so why, I ask, must you go by?
Why do we make you fast and needy,
why make something so awfully greedy?
You steal away all my relief,
false dreams I have with you, my thief,
you take the time I need for love;
go hence with thee, my ill-timed shove!