I bloom every morning,
With messy hair and yawning,
With all my thought start aborning.
At this time the enthusiasm is always high,
So, for a beautiful day to all lazziness should say bye.

I listen to you say,
Your version of me
As your debtor.

And then I say,
Me in my original version
Is far better.

You treat me bad in your ****** times
Every time I wonder what was my crime
With every approaching luxury
You felt my happiness is compulsory
The good time comes and goes
The bad time comes and goes
I adjust with all your temperamental
I always express you as gentle
Here is the end of the story
This repeating cycle is my glory.

Being your slave, what should I do but tend
Upon the hours and times of your desire?
I have no precious time at all to spend,
Nor services to do, till you require.
Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour,
Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you,
Nor think the bitterness of absence sour
When you have bid your servant once adieu.
Nor dare I question with my jealous thought
Where you may be, or your affairs suppose,
But, like a sad slave, stay and think of naught
Save where you are, how happy you make those.
    So true a fool is love that in your will,
    Though you do any thing, he thinks no ill.