The speaker asks the reader a series of simple, uncomfortable questions. Do you ever think about your comfortable way of life? About what it costs? Do you ever want to change it? The poem never says what the costs are, and that gap is part of its point. We are left to fill in the answer ourselves.
The questions repeat, almost like a stubborn voice that won't let go, but the answer, when it comes, is flat and resigned: "I don't think we ever think nor want to change." Notice the shift from "you" to "we." The speaker stops pointing a finger and includes themselves in the blame. The last line simply repeats the idea of change and the "luxury lives," and nothing happens, which fits the message.
The mood is quiet, tired, and a little guilty. There is no anger or lecture here, just a sad honesty about how easy it is to look away from something we benefit from.