What the fuck?

Long, long ago, in our college days
we drunken radicals,
smokers, lovers and sports fans,
living what we still call ‘the life’,
would often say,

Hey let’s not waste our lives,
let’s a couple of us work at a time
and let’s the rest of us live in merry

At forty plus it’s too late to go back
but it’s true I feel more insecure and unsure,
wasted and spent, more than ever,
growing addicted to money with every pay rise,
luxuries turning necessities day after day.
What the fuck?

My next car is an Audi, after that Bentley,
my iPad keeps me connected
to my clients and my bosses
who of course keep the world spinning
through butcher houses and cock-fight clubs.
What the fuck?

They say work is worship,
I say whatever it’s a waste of time
I miss ethics, I lack passion–
to teach and heal are businesses,
news is what entertains the well-off.
What the fuck?

They say unemployment’s big challenge,
I say bullshit, man has toiled enough,
now let robots and machines do the job.
Why would I do a thing that a software can?
To live, to make money, they say.
What the fuck?

Wait a minute, world, take a break.
Where are we going? What’s there ahead?
Why do we make, sell and buy things all the time?
Is that the only way to live?
What the fuck?

All the deaths, the calamities, tragedies and wars…
life is an accident,
perhaps a gift, perhaps just a chance–
now me, now what?
Yet I make this stupid product,
convince you to buy it,
and fool ourselves saying it’s a boom!
What the fuck?

Hey let’s not waste our lives,
let’s some of us work at a time
and let’s the rest of us live in merry

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