They locked our doors and forbade smiles
Don't laugh too much, malaria flies
A mask is now the norm, everybody lies
So clean and neatly separated human ties
Deprive me once, I will lease a house
Twice is better, I never liked my boss!
Third time, no chance; all grim, all gray
Streets? Cafés? No talking, no flirting, no game...
Rejoice! For you have created a world
Of so clean and neatly separated men who
Like to write and not to talk, be heard:
Against you are the green and blue!
Arise my voice as if that helps
Just an incantation of the past
My murmurs shall one day be heard
Yet in the form of Danse Macabre.
We have lost our third place: Our place of meeting each other after work and before home. We were banished from our work space as well: We all dream of a job which doesnt make us go to an office, and rightfully so! We have glorified squeezing ourselves, our minds and souls and lives into our tiny apartment buildings of which we are proud for being close to the mall or the metro station. We despised our fathers for making a family at too young of an age, now we swipe on people when we are at that age. How despising is it, to have underlined the primitiveness of our minds! In our tiny apartments, which are close to the metro station, we are certain of our apeness, doing everything at hand to ensure that fact, while screaming imported nonsense sensitivity slogans at the top of our lungs at a screen which follows our eye movements. We talk and meet and love and hate and fight over our tiny apartments, we never want to leave them. Oh, are we afraid of leaving our tiny apartments, even though they are close to the metro station!
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