Every morning, we crawl out of bed
dressing ourselves and getting fed
packing our stuff, cursing our work
cause good paying jobs are for the wealthy reserved
No chance to group
the stairs they point down
keep up that smile
you know you can’t frown
obey your employer
never take breaks
Work, god damn work
for the economy's sake
167 (or more) hours of work in a week
rest’s just preparation
your health will grow brittle and weak
for value generation
after all, its legal exploitation
for every future generation
until they own the nation
Isn’t it torture isn’t it killing
it might just be worse
we are selling ourselves
for endless commerce
There is no compassion
there is no moral or soul
the entire system is rotten and foul
And yet we continue
in our greed and our rage
building and building
our own golden cage
Our planet is dying
but that we ignore
as long as there are 50 brands of cornflakes in store
We cannot grow until the end of time
lets change what we’re doing, lets try and be better
or we suffer forever and ever
Please change, it’s our last cry
cause if you don’t stop
its the end of the line
A Poem by Zorofeu