There’s a big year to come, and it’s nonsense to some.
World predictions are rampant as well as bad news.
Big horrific earth changes will bring death and pain.
And the few that survive will be driven insane.
It’s our nature to make up and harbor such views
That are utterly baseless with outlook so glum.
The solution? Get happy by whatever means.
There’s a day set aside for that recurrent need
To just party and cast all cares swiftly away.
It’s still good therapy if but done for a day.
People drink lots of booze or they smoke lots of weed
Because most of the year we behave like machines.
It’s a happy new year every year at this time.
No two years are the same though repeated in ways
That reflect our propensity to see things through
‘Til the next time the calendar tells us to do
What we’ve done through the ages in reticent praise
Of our possible fate in eternity’s chime.