“There may be nothing wrong with you,
The way you live, the work you do,
But I can very plainly see
Exactly what is wrong with me. It isn’t that I’m indolent
Or dodging duty by intent;
I work as hard as anyone,
And yet I get so little done,
The morning goes, the noon is here,
Before I know, the night is near,
And all around me, I regret
Are things I haven’t finished yet.
If I could just get organized!
I oftentimes have realized
Not all that matters is the man;
The man must also have a plan”