“Kill your masters & run away”,
Said the farmer to the slave.
“Run, run till your soles cannot anymore
Make, make that necessary escape.
They will kill you for their empire
Till you are a walking corpse,
Then feast on your body till dawn,
And not pay you what you are worth, exploit you like a whore.
Oh, the insight of knowing that this hamster’s wheel is a joke.
No beginning, no end, no relief, no remorse.
Run, run till the wheels fall off.
Make, make that escape that no one dares in the crowd.”
“I would if I could, you know that”,
Said the slave as retort.
“But I feel like staying somehow,
It is called Stockholm syndrome.
29 days of gloom & sadness
1 day of happiness when I receive that pay.
The government tricked us all, gave us the facade of education,
Told us that will get us jobs,
But took away our elation.
Contemplation is something I cannot afford,
Just like the million of other things they show on that TV show.
Having a high income is different from having wealth
Oh, screw this way of life, the way these cards were dealt.
No new thoughts , no new ideas
No new light, no new day.
I know it can drive anyone mad
But this is how the world lives now
Look down and slowly walk away
Or else they will seal our lips now.
This conundrum that is life,
Can never be explained.
I think I had the answers when I was young
When I say the same now they call me insane.
I let that child inside die,
And now I don’t have my juvenile laughter
Gotta go now, the boss is screaming
The factory machine must run faster.
It produces the same products all over again,
And we are also the product, brother
Let us not pretend.
I sometimes hope we had met earlier and not at the end.
You must be the outlier now, farmer, oh, what a high.
You have luxury few do now.
You get to see the sky.“
मंच 