• Fiddler of Time, Fiddler of Time,
    Would you care to hear my rhyme?

    The oceans are sick;the creatures are dieing,
    Their song is now only crying.

    The trees; they crash!
    And the voices drowned out the clash;
    Of others falling.

    They cry and they moan,
    Wishing to be alone,
    In the ever growing pile of what we have wasted.

    But allas! We cannot hear,
    We can only spear,
    Until the landscape becomes so drear.

    Then all that is left is dust and ash,
    As we choke on our beloved cash...

    Fiddler of Time, Fiddler of Time,
    Why do you cry?

    He takes me to his knee as he wipes the tears,
    And he says to me;

    "Seeing the children, my sweet little dear.
    Seeing the children disappear."