People treat life like it’s a game

How much money, power, fame

Can you acquire before you expire?

But you see that’s where the problem is

 

People say life is about finding yourself

 

But it’s not

Life is about creating yourself

Though we pursue plastic dreams and material things

Only thinking of ourselves

Yet here we are, unhappy

And decorating our prison cell

Neither believing in a Heaven nor a Hell

 

Because the idea of ‘something else’

Seems impossible

 

Meanwhile we overwork ourselves

To collect money for anything to fill the void

That lies inside our hearts and beneath our voice

See that’s where we contradict ourselves

The idea of ‘something else’ seems impossible

 

But yet we keep searching

 

How long before I’m happy?

Will I always feel this empty?

How long will it be

Before I find the perfect thing

To satisfy my wants, but never my needs?

 

Still we refuse the idea of a bigger picture

A bigger plan

Because the idea of a man

Who lived so many years ago

Seems like a fairytale

Too good to be true

 

We shut out any idea of a God

Yet still wait for the bank to pull through

So we can buy things

 

Things that won’t matter at all

When we’re buried in the ground

Six feet down

 

And we’d have lived our whole life

Lost and consumed in ourselves

Our lives just empty shells

Feeling more empty than a black hole

 

Because it’s only after death we realize

Money can’t save our souls

 

Now I understand in today’s age

Money is a necessity

Which is funny

Because we treat eternity

And our own King

As a fantasy

While paying no heed to our destiny

This irony

Is quite confusing

 

Don’t we realize that

Things were created to be used

And people were created to be loved?

It’s no wonder this world is in chaos;

Things are being loved and

People are being used

 

Always we are trying to fit into

Other people’s shoes

Now that’s a fairytale