Текст песни Capitalism - Poetra Asantewa

Never ending to-do list
A mind that never rests
Three versions of yourself motivating your current self
In 4 months you will have a finished project
And maybe you will celebrate an hour or even 2
If what you put in doesn't match what you get out
You are guaranteed a very miserable self
Burnout in the name of building dreams
Burnout in the name of capitalism

Capitalism, piling the work
Capitalism, waving fat cheques
Capitalism, will never stop
Capitalism is fucking us all up

You have approximated the path to your dream life
A first degree by 23, a job offer before graduation
3 years of hard work, a promotion with a raise fatter than your fears
Your second degree at 27
By 30 you have a car to your name and comfortably renting
An apartment that feels like second skin
You're going to be 31 in May
And every night your gut feels like the mouth of a panic
Attack, a dying wound that keeps reopening
You thought you would be a maturing fruit by now
But your dreams are still teething
Biting into your skin until there's blood,
Making holes in your pocket and leaving scars on
Your heart
9 to 5 is only just a manifesto
Everybody knows 7 to 7 is your daily bread
Rent is a high falsetto that demands to be heard
Light and water hold the tune together
And food fills up the entire front row of you paycheck
You wish you could avoid healthcare bills
But it's hard to look away when a melody is offkey
The way adulthood knows how to congregate a choir of bad songs
If you were to measure the length of your bills
It could clothe a family of 3
There's a darkness sitting in the pit of you
Trying to saw you open with its grief
People call it depression but you just know
This thing that digs into you is an illness that
Money can fix

More money
More money
More money
We working for more money
More money
More money
Are you depressed or are you broke?

You thought entrepreneur life would be more fulfilling
But its by far the hardest thing you've ever done.
There's no such thing as 9-5, there's only the hours you're up working
And the hours you're sleeping.
You work harder than everybody, waiting on your business to
Bloom the way a late bloomer waits for her breasts
To swell up and fill her clothes
You work so hard you barely notice when it's a public holiday
If exhaustion were human she would wear your skin
You barely have time to create space for your own tenderness
You wear your fatigue like a survival kit
Money will make null all the sorrow that struggle has marked you with
In the name of a good life you're working your way into a sick body
Look how you're breaking from all this longing