I planned to read a book or two, Go to the gym and clean my room, Work on my art and play kazoo, Smell the flower’s sweet perfume, I had resolved then to reflect, On my life and e’vry act, And find some newfound self-respect, — As a matter of fact, I mapped out to travel more, Trek down every trail and track, And open all mine loc’ked doors, Never fooling to look back. Yet now I paused to take a peek, At the old days I’d left behind, Thinking I had reached new peaks, And what then should I find? But days that look a lot like these, The same old books, and wrinkly knees, The same old junk and lousy keys, And planter pots filled w’th crusty lees, I gazed back on my ample rear, Remembering all my newfound fears, And resolved with feigned but faithful cheer: That 2020 would be my year.