"I want it all right now"...yeah, well don't we all, you greedy little maggots? Want, want, want – it's the death rattle of the American soul. You don't really want "things". What you want is that sweet, rotten cherry called oblivion. The blissful delusion that fills the black hole where your sorry excuse for a soul should be.
You want wisdom, peace, relaxed days... yeah, and I want a herd of Peruvian unicorns to carry me through the Gates of Hell on a chariot of dynamite. What in God's twisted circus are you even talking about? The things you actually want? You wouldn't recognize them if they took a steaming dump on your head. All you know is a hunger that feeds on itself, an emptiness no pile of greenbacks or self-help claptrap can ever fill.
You crave this 'lost in your passions' crap? Hogwash. What you really want is a brain pickled in cheap booze and pharmaceuticals, a pathetic shield against the howling of the void. Forget money...money's just another drug, a crutch for the spiritually crippled. No, what you parasites truly seek is to never face the monstrous truth: you're scared sh*tless of that part of yourself untouched by material junk.
I know the type. I've seen you squirming in your cushy prisons, terrified of the day you lose it all. I've met the version of myself with empty pockets and nowhere to go. Turns out, he's a hell of a lot more honest than most of the money-grubbing weasels on this godforsaken rock. No mansion, no bank balance, just an empty belly and a clear goddamn head. And somewhere inside that emaciated carcass, I found a little shred of sanity the parasites have long since sold for a downpayment on another gilded cage.
They say money brings freedom. What a sick joke. Real freedom's got nothing to do with a number on a piece of paper. It means looking into the abyss and laughing like a lunatic because there's nothing else left to do. It means facing the fact that, when the chips are down and the mask of self-delusion crumbles, most of you wouldn't last a day in the wild. Your precious god, the Almighty Dollar, won't save you when the bottom falls out, my friends.
So go ahead, chase your tails, you simpering sheep. Fill your minds with fantasies of love and purpose and peace. Just remember that without God, or the guts to face yourselves in His absence, you're gonna meet the real you sooner or later – stripped bare, howling for just one more fix.
Who would you be then, huh? Scared? You damn well should be.