Sometimes I wonder whether I will kick
The bucket in the middle of the day—
You know, you've got somewhere to go and tick
Tock, time is up! It hurts but that's the way
It goes. Who knows what I'll be wishing I
Had finished when I sink into the earth?
Though I don't doubt I'd have just cause to cry
When judging what that cut-short life was worth,
I know I've gotta see the blinding light
Sometime—why not beneath a blazing sun?
I can't imagine death without a fight;
At dusk or dawn or noon there's something un
Decided, undiscovered, yet to meet.
I'd rather kick it hard with steady feet.
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