In the End

I make sure to toss spilled salt over my shoulder
But I never can remember if it’s supposed to be the left or the right
So I always throw it over both to cover my ass
The determination’s not been made yet, whether I’ve lived a charmed life
Right now one without charm feels weighing heavier on the decision scale
But I’m withholding a call until it’s over
Right then at the end I’ll know, so I’ll tell you how it came out then . . . 
Hmmm . . . ah
Sadly, I don’t believe in seances; however, I do believe in ghosts
So you could actually hear from me
I’d say the surest way you’d know would be to leave it
To my biographer to make the conclusion, but you –
and I – would be ROFL at such egotistical presumption
And this is a serious matter I’m considering here
I mean, if I were Samuel Johnson, or Beowulf, or Elvis, no problem
But you’d have to be a lot luckier than I
To have a life story ending up on a bookshelf
I do believe I’ve had good luck on some occasions
But I’ve been unlucky at least as many times
If you’re like me, you always say a penny you pick up off the street
Will bring luck all day long, but I can’t recall any time it has
Yet true, too, I’ve broken so many mirrors I’ve lost count 
And I can’t say for certain if each time has resulted in seven years of bad fortune
Still I can’t help but feel life’s been weightier on the charmless and luckless side
As I say, the jury’s out on that until the final moment comes