Pointing Fingers

It's all the same,
whether unknown or fame,
whether rich or poor,
we'll all go through the same damned door.
How many narcissists,
how many fantasists
refuse to see
that they picked from the same damned tree,
and that the sentence is 'we',
not 'me',

WE!

We succumb to the very same thing
that enticed us to the tree.
You know, deep down,
that YOU are no different than me -
with waves of greed
in an endless sea.
The depths, oh glory be, go back to beginnings,
when all was wrong, 
that endless song
of a treat, a very sweet treat,
that cast us from our home - we did no more belong.
Sweet, sweet, treat.
Now we find our own way
every day.
You could say that that it is ok,
and you would - it's what I've been saying all along.

You refuse to see
the tragedy
that we cannot escape 
a decision to need all the fish in the sea,
and take (all the things we can take),
then try to escape our sentenced fate - 
a condemned state,
that might be 
eternity!