Open the trunk, with candor and spunk,
amazed by the concepts we have thunk,
yet revealing all, it's never stunk.
Spun into funk, abiding a drunk,
with thoughts, dreams, and goals going kerplunk.
Since we've not slunk, from feelings that sunk,
Our pain and strain hopefully has shrunk.

Fashion our fate, before it's too late,
remove mail and mounds that inundate,
control events before they inflate.
Trim fifty weight, find a special mate,
fulfill every desire on the slate.
Won't it be great, when we drop old freight,
becoming the new life, we create.