Fate's Fickle Finger

Some days can be quite a blessing,
Some days would be best spent in bed.
Fickle Fate could keep you guessing
Or fill you with a sense of dread.

You wake up long before daylight,
Stretch and wipe the sleep from your eyes,
You bathe and prepare for the fight
Through traffic as the sun starts to rise.

You drive in a rush hour nightmare,
The radio blaring a tune.
The wind wildly blowing your hair,
While along with the music you croon.

Your workday is dull and lazy,
The boss is in quite a good mood.
Instead of driving you crazy,
He's adopted a fresh attitude.

After work, you stop at the store
To pick up some milk for the wife.
Then you see the clerk on the floor,
And a man in a mask with a knife.

The bell on the door scares the crook.
He spins 'round and thrusts with his blade.
You don't feel the wound but you look,
With your vision beginning to fade.

Before you know it, the end is here.
Nobody said life was fair.
The crook escapes, to live in fear,
That he'll be caught somehow, somewhere.

So when you wake up each morning,
See the day as a gift, not a chore.
Because there is never a warning
That you may not have many more.

No one knows when the end will arrive,
Not a soul knows the time of his death.
Make your mark now, you may not survive.
You will never know 'til your last breath.