Commoditism

What is the capacity of our lives
 How much shit can we fit to satisfy the fetish
 Of material commodities
 Possessions, the ruler of happiness
 I can't resist the overindulgence in this shit
 In order to truly understand our ridiculousness
 I would have to been stripped
 Taken away from my ever-growing mountain of bits
 It's not just a disorder of the rich
 It's nearly American to be stuck in this ditch
 Even when the majority is living in the pits
 At what fucking point can we agree that we really have enough?
 As the mountain forges upward, we suffocate in an abundant
 heap of our own chattels
 Assets like a drug, to satisfy
 Sufficiency is a dream
 The modern perception of adequacy is a fucking disgust
 Desire is an infinite void with out borders that can never
 fulfill the eternal lust
 If only we could see the boundaries
 Perhaps we would be able to draw the line to separate what
 we truly need
 Self-gratification seems to come wrapped in plastic
 With a price tag on it and every fucking store seems to have it
 We are told to soak it up
 To keep a full cup
 And this is considered a blessing
 What the fuck?