Here’s why we can’t have nice things anymore.
Here’s how we’ve joined the ranks of the poor.
We’ve mortgaged tomorrow to buy yesterday.
Now we rail at the lender who wants us to pay.

We laughed at repair and discarded the old,
admiring the glitter of gleaming fool’s-gold.
We sped up the craft and we cheapened the thread.
Now we wonder why quality’s totally dead.

We laughed at the slow and we mocked at the small,
till nothing was sturdy or rooted at all.
We flattened the oak for a billboard’s white lie.
Now we’re puzzled in summer why no birds fly by.

We relied on the loudest to tell us what’s true.
We handed them hammers to see what they’d do.
We shouted down doubt with exuberant sneers
and we’re shocked to discover that nobody hears.

We polished our image, but tarnished our name,
and we called it success in our glittering game.
We priced every kindness and tallied each grace.
Now love wears a barcode across its poor face.

We drained every well that was brimming and deep.
Now we curse the dry earth for no harvest to reap.
We rated our worth by the stuff that we store
and that’s why we can’t have nice things anymore.