The morning’s first sound, Doze must be pressed, On that button so round, To ensure you continue, Your comfortable rest.

A stare that pierces into soul. Metaphorical there, but will make physical holes. Excalibur for a battle-fed mole. Or an assassin’s tool that feels more personal.

I give you work you didn’t choose, Then test how much you didn’t lose.

How times have changed. In biblical times, you might do this to a law-breaker as their final punishment. Today, people do this to themselves and enjoy it, although that might turn them into law-breakers. If you can't find compassion for the sick that do this to themselves, you might have a heart made of me.

I've helped sell Coke, don't you know. Against a backdrop of Christmas, mountains of white snow. But of us three, the most dangerous I be. Of us three, they tell you to say goodnight to me. What am I?