It starts with wanting, it starts with wishing,

With a nagging itch that just needs scratching,

With desire that requires satiation,

Without requiring an explanation.

 

With wanting the latest, the newest of new,

With the thought that, "If they have then I can have too,"

With a lust for gaudy material things,

With a need for the feeling of pleasure that brings.

 

So you settle your sights and you fix on your aim,

You stretch your finances, establish your claim,

You "know" that you need it, this newest of things,

You know that you'll need all the joy that it brings.

 

You "know" that without it you won't be complete,

You "know" you "must have" can't accept defeat,

You know you can't really afford it, that's true,

But you know that you'll long, 'til it belongs to you.

 

You tell yourself, "No!" You must have control,

You think of the cost, reckon the toll,

Decide that this newest of new things must wait,

But you can't help but want, can't help but fixate.

 

Then one day it happens, you can hold back no longer,

The impulse to own getting stronger and stronger,

So you bury the guilt and dig out the pleasure,

And comfort yourself with the promise of treasure.

 

But the price of that feeling, oh that will be hard,

Overdraft, credit, or overstretched card,

But the price comes tomorrow, the joy comes today,

So you give in, you borrow, you purchase, you pay.

 

And then there it is, right there in your hands,

The comfort you feel is the comfort you planned,

But the warmth of that feeling is slipping away,

In the guilt of the knowledge that you'll have to pay.

 

The comfort's a brief and illusory pleasure,

When compared to the price of holding this treasure,

And deep down you know that you knew all along,

That the second you bought it you'd know it was wrong.

 

That moment of comfort was not worth the toll,

That moment did not and could not, make you whole,

The emptiness crushing, then knowledge and sorrow,

That having today, means robbing tomorrow.