The Things -

He came to free me from the prison of my own design

This is your life ending one minute at a time

As the scales fall from my eyes

I see vivid visions of what to do before I die

Liberated from property

My perception is shifting

Contrived desire, never have enough

The dream we’re sold will stay out of reach

We whored ourselves

So we could keep hoarding

We pissed away our youth

We work jobs we hate for things we don’t need

Now we’re slowly finding the truth

Swallowing lies

A shallow sense of meaning

Giving up on dreams to keep climbing the ladder

Perfect life and trophy wife, did you get what you wanted?

We detached from nature

Chasing the dollar

Not thinking for ourselves, I’ll put this in perspective

Everything small is just a small version of something that’s big

So why do we let our identities bleed into the things that surround us?

You’re not defined by the symbols of your status

So why do we let our identities bleed into the things that surround us?

Don’t be defined by the symbols of your status

The things you own end up owning you

Will end up owning you

Will end up owning you

Will end up owning you

Our chance to break the fixation

On power and possessions

To jettison the nonsense for something true

Spectating while life slips from our hands

Lost in mediocrity, whether white or blue

We’re forgetting what it is to be human

To create instead of consume