When I looked and directed my gaze to the drives of life,
the drives of my age, what I saw left me with a sick feeling inside.
Happiness, distorted and construed,
to mean finding all new shit to consume and all other aims are just a waste of time.
What have we done?
Took life - drained it of passion.
Now all that remains is a drive to profit.
When I saw that this was the goal - their meaning of life, a drive to own
I rejected their ways and looked deeper still,
and I found pieces of paper more important than people,
suffering vindicated as acceptable.
This drive to own is destructive to our will to create.
I can see those dollar signs glittering right there in their eyes,
but I can turn my head away and forge a better day.
In the sunset I can see approaching a new drive for life, one that