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A day in the life, of a man with a knife. A man who’s so sad, ‘cause when he was a lad, his father was murdered, with a pen and a pad. His father of course was a man of ambition, who raised him right and paid for tuition. He was loving and caring, and when he had passed, the boys mind filled with rage, a rage that grew fast. And when he was at the end of his rope, he finally decided to build up some hope, that one day soon, he would find a way, to make the killer rue the day, that he made his father lose his job and pay. His job was his life and his only escape, a place he was social, where he cut through red tape. The man that replaced him was the killer all right, a man with the strength to put up a fight. He was aged and grey, and he couldn’t stay, in his seat assigned, for the inaugural day. And when the time was right, with knife in hand, the man once a lad, strode up to the stand. At the stand stood the man who had ruined his dad, the man who had made him so utterly mad. And with all his will power and all his might, he shook the mans hand and made everything right.