Creators are natural givers
And I’ve watched them drown in jobs they abhor,
Watched them despair, tired and exploited,
Giving more and more, time for money,
To survive, not more, merely survive,
Waiting for results of debates whether to raise
Wages by a few pence whilst the salary of the reckless
Goes up, without a reason, just like that, without discussions,
Hundreds and hundreds of pounds, just like that,
Self-serving, whilst people, in hordes, are still trying to create
In a destroyed and hostile environment, giving for nothing
Until they stop, it’s what keeps them sane,
It’s what keeps you sane and yet there is no gratitude,
No compensation, nothing, you feed the starving artist regime,
You want people to be truthful, uncorrupted, useful,
The way we raise children and ourselves is incompatible,
We urge suffering, struggling, monotony, functionality,
Efficiency, money, money, shallowness, depression,
Poverty, giving in, giving up, offering our vocation to money,
To survive, to merely survive in the world you built
Where honest dedicated and purpose-driven people
With their hearts in the right place have to be resilient and
Barely stand a chance, and fight and fight against your terrorism
With their hands full of love, with everything they have to give,
Still holding on to creativity but you suck their lives
Right out of them with your outdated and anti-human institutionalised
Patterns, how many people have wasted away on their deathbeds
Thinking it’s too late, I should have done this and that and why
And why not and what stopped me, what did I do, for what,
For whom, what, all my life long,
They die with regrets in their chests, where their heart was
Eroded by your big mouth, and in that moment they see it clearly,
Their wasted vocation, unlived, that you took for granted, that
You killed with your inhumanness, you efficiency, your presumed
Normality, everybody thinking the same shit,
Everybody looking the same, speaking the same, integration,
Oppression, all squeezed through the same machinery,
Feasting on our flesh, in times like these, with our heads barely
Sticking out of the communal misery, you leave us there,
You money-hoarders, greedy absorbers, the arts you take for granted,
Suffer you fools, you must suffer, and then some might give their last penny
To fraudsters and false hope proclaimers because you
Didn’t take care of us all, because you never cared in the first place,
Because you needed us to pay our basic bills, basic rights,
Pay up, pay up, queuing whilst you’re hoarding,
People that are so giving, so full of love,
That, in their deep-seated despair, invest in pyramid schemes,
The way the entire world works is a pyramid scheme,
Good jobs, bad jobs, one person making billions, one person making
Nothing, money dividing where it should unite,
Infecting whilst preaching about healing,
What are you doing to the ones who truly try to heal others,
Try to help others, try to make this world a better place,
Try to bring light into the darkness, try to spread love instead of hate,
Try to give instead of take, shame on you for burying your artists,
For starving your artists, you fools, shame on you,
You natural takers, when will you give back and not
Exploit the souls that give, it’s a two-way street,
Where you like to hang out for free
Only seeing what you want to see,
Encouraging old rotten sayings, justifying your egotistic behaviour,
You are failing your artists, your creators, your givers,
Your everyday people, and force everyone to take and take
In sheer panic and fall on their knees, and roar
In gratitude for the bits and pieces and debated leftovers
You spilled, shame on you.
Croque-Melpomene 