képek, betűk

The myth of boundless growth
The story of our age, its lullaby --> lulling us under
Human heads babbling in cradles
Sealed inside their own psyches
As if I were merely dreaming
The branching networks of corporate structures
Human ties grown frozen, gone cold
Where purposelessness is cast into moulds
Standardised greed
The reverence for money, for wealth
Behind cold, brutal concrete walls
Company dinners, drunken evenings
We wander through the labyrinths
Of opaque ownership structures
The rain falls on us all the same
And every human thing is fragile
All our affairs, all our actions pass away
A shivering, cool varnish of lies
Covers our relationships
It is terrifying to be made into an object
To live as a means to an end
Worst of all is the sense of déjà vu
The way everything keeps repeating
Sitting among people, you listen
To the technological fashions of the hour
Knowing that, a few years from now,
They too will be obsolete, thrown out with the rubbish
Like the ones you heard the same claims about ten years ago
And around you, people clap again
They are swept up with enthusiasm
I sit among them
Melting inwardly, like ice cream forgotten in the sun
The tears taste of chocolate and vanilla
The chill of money runs through the voices
Profit’s ceaseless hum
Its devilish mantra
Whispering profit into every ear
And gathering speed exponentially
I am afraid of this cycle
But more than anything
Of the truth that, in reality, nothing has changed
We have done nothing for our planet
Only for our own selfishness
Only for profit
And perhaps twenty years from now
None of this will be here any more,
Only empty buildings
People lining up for food
Heat, filth,
And the ruins left behind after the feeding frenzy.