Passing on

Today I went to heaven,
for reasons quite obscure.
It wasn't how I'd planned my day,
I can tell you that for sure.

Circumstance and accident,
it seems became entwined,
because meeting my creator
was the last thing on my mind.

I wish I had my time again,
I should’ve have read the signs.
The day was full of pitfalls
if I'd read between the lines.

I dropped my toast on the floor,
the dry side facing up.
The measure was half-empty,
of the coffee in my cup.

So now I face the question,
"How did you come to pass?"
"I slipped upon the butter
and landed on my ass!"

If I could have my time again,
I'd spend the day in bed.
Daytime TV might be bad
but it's better than being dead.

I'd planned a day of leisure
and to party through the night,
Instead I'm hearing voices,
"Come towards the light."

No bar-room fun or discotheque,
just time in God's great acre.
Via the kitchen floor, casualty,
and the fucking undertaker.

You never dream it might be you,
that today is your last day.
If I had known, had been prepared,
I know exactly what to say.

I'll give you this advice
so you don't end up being dead;
“See everything half-full,
don’t put butter on your bread."