“Too much of a good thing” is a thing, so they say
I’ve painfully proved it in more than one way:

My eyeballs are smarting… from too much smart-phoning
(So, five hours plus every day isn’t smart?)

My diet’s confounded by pounding the pound cake
(Can everlasting gladness in glucose be found?)

My head feels like breaking from late-night bread-baking
(I’m pooped; I can’t focus; my mood is half-baked!)

My eardrums are humming from head-pounding drumming
(Was three concerts all in one day rather dumb?)

Please spare me from “too much of a good thing” O God

And thereby I’ll, “spare…

…the (self-imposed) rod”!

Don’t temper my temperance whenever I’m tempted

Lord, preempt my will with Thy Will

Lest joy from my life

Be exempted