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Too Late

The day you die Will begin like any other day

You will search for your ringing phone in the darkness And lazily dismiss the alarm

You will lay awake in bed And wonder if you can't be just a few minutes late for work today

You will reach for your phone And look through your unread messages - your little sister is asking for money (again) - the bank has debited you another fraudulent stamp duty charge - your favourite salad place is doing buy-one-get-one-free parfaits

You will think about your mother And decide to call her in the evening

You will crawl into the bathroom And wait for the water to run warm

You will think about saying a morning prayer And decide you're running late

You will walk into the kitchen And eat two bananas, have a cup of Milo

You will leave the house And lock the door

You will get to the gate, forgot you locked the door, and return to open and lock the door

You will get into your car And turn the radio on


On Third Mainland Bridge The man driving the Corolla next to you is not concentrating He's on the phone with his boss His boss is yelling He can't hear her properly The network is fluctuating His phone falls in between the seats He reaches for it The car rams into the curb It flips

You see it all Play out in slow motion Right before your eyes

You freeze You think about saying a prayer You decide it's too late

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