How I long to understand
Why we are so underhand
And throw away our lives for ownership

Who owns blossom on the tree
The gardener or the cherry
Should the bumble bee own the scrip

Twist your tendons and minds
Embers fly as the axe grinds
Just to avoid tongues cracking whip

Drunken on your earned credit
The latest "must buy" on Reddit
Who knew owning could be so hip

Time ticks and you get old
Till the day your body's cold
Then all your stuff cast in the skip

The bee flies from the tree
Pollen laden to the colony
Careless of your past "ownership"

The dollar turns into a cent
All you "owned" was just for rent
Space owns time, which owns your little blip.