Comes out rolling slow
Or in a swirling wind
You can try and guess but you won't
About the hand of death

A mystery to most
But always true to self
We all will eventually raise a toast
To the very last hand dealt

Some might see it coming
This slap in the face
But never ready the moment
Death carts you away

Never known to care
Or show the least respect
Could be a millionaire
Or someone with nothing left

By rugged land or the high sea
Flying through the air
Death does not care where it meets
Shows up anywhere

Standing at the gate
Never running late
Could be on the docket tomorrow
Or in triplicate forms filled out today
Either way...it's your fate