He, yes he, himself is time,
time so rich, oh bountiful time,
it plays on his finger tips, when it is rightfully thine,
and sits by his feet, when it is rightfully thine.
Some call him a thief, a burglar at night,
they watch their doors for a burglar at night,
but he is innocent when he is out of sight,
can’t put a name on a face when he is out of sight.
He spends his time more ludicrously than money,
when time is to be saved like a babe without money,
his actions are rather uncanny,
and his words can’t be deemed anything but uncanny.
Yes, this is the tale of a man with no end,
this is the tale of the man who will see the end,
this is a man you should not offend,
this is the man who will offend.