I convince myself I’m free, but I still seek permission from you

So many dreams pulling at my heart, but you tell me what I can and can’t do

“I need to make more money so I can…” has become the motto

Crushed by, “the only way that’s possible is if I hit the lotto”

I’m naive enough to think there’s still time to get out

But with every dream deferred I’m afraid I’m succumbing to doubt

I have no desire or intention to be rich, and that’s the truth

However, I do yearn for the funds to actually live in my youth

Not quite sure if I’m feeding the vicious monster of entitlement

Or if it’s chains that everyone assumes are normal that I’ve come to resent

Either way, something about the ‘need’ to get more doesn’t sit well

This cycle of demand with no supply is starting to piss me off, if you can’t tell