why be ye ruled by chronos?
that snivelling squealer of old.
with beady eyes set above his craggy nose,
he fumes whilst in peace thee snore.
tis him, that treacherous half-wit,
that every morn tauntest thy sweet mother
to deprive from thee each extra minute,
beyond thy set hours of slumber.
He that gave life to chronos,
what runneth in his mind then?
didst he not halt to ponder,
the curse he wouldst unleash on men?
alas, the simpleton ne'er pondered thus,
his invention hadst shrouded his mind.
gagged his soul from speaking out,
loosening the reins that held the beast inside.
Hence now ye stand at the mercy of chronos,
the fiend that maketh the laws.
When thou shalt rise or thou shalt slumber,
tis his call to decide.
why shoudst we remain in this fashion?
canst we not rebel?
to return to days of the virgin world,
when life was ruled by sun and moon alone.
to whenst no devilish face upon the wall shone
with twelve scars and two revolving limbs.
that from within bellowed the orders of chronos,
scurrying folks on preordined chores.
join me now my fellow men
and let us war against this fiend.
for peace and bliss for us to relish,
dependest on banishing foul chronos.