The American creed, may be one of greed, when not busy with violence or gore.
But that creed is most fed, by our grabby of hands, constantly on want for more!
More food on our plates! More love from our mates! More jewelry and speedy red cars!
More sun in the day, until it is done, then we want more moon and more stars.
We want more to do, and more that we've done, and more honors to prove that we're great.
Don't lie that you haven't, given great thought, that you wish you had more arms and legs.
We could iron while typing, while primping, and txt. While we pull all the weeds from our farms.
We could juggle sans struggle, and cook while we snuggle, if we simply had more than two arms!
With more legs we could dance, and leisurely prance. While we sat, and we stood, and we flailed.
We could walk for great miles, without timing trials, and forget of the breath that be failed.
Forget not the arms, and legs create grief. With troubles quite honest, they cause.
We'd have more hang nails, to trim and keep file. Lest they grow into great wicked claws.
Not a shirt would fit right, unless cut with more holes. Our pants would be useless, at least.
The cost of production, new life in reduction. Our planet would evolve to a beast.
We'd have much more chance, to trip while we dance. Fumbling with many left feet.
But those are just crumbs, if we're chopping our thumbs, while cutting our veggies and meat!
Perhaps more is not best, in any of life. For you, or for me, or for him.
The disaster of greed would certainly grow, to increase our number of limbs.