"Sunday" is your freedom.
They concede you a miserable truce,
take it as the sweetest present life can give.
6 days a week of monotony, humiliations, sheer submission.
How can you accept it??
How can you fit the rules of a game
where "money" is the perpetual winner
and you're just a worthless pawn arranged on its draughtboard...??
Profit, career, social climb.
Send your freedom to the gallows,
take the rope and fuck it again.
Slaves chained to assembly lines, offices,
bent over desks, glued to TV screens...
"Sunday" will be their compensation,
horses waiting for their sugarplums.
Sunday tradition is their happiness.
Sunday you can be lazy, wake up late,
watch your fave programs, fuck your partner to the bone...
ignoring that while you do it there's someone standing on your back,
ready to stick 6 fingers in your stripped ass.
"Give me a moment's respite, embrace this sweet-uncertain chest,
make me feel... at least something - Stain me with sex, deep down...
No fun. No pleasure. I need nothing but normality."
Work burns out. Repetitive actions whitered a lovely mind,
fragmentary comforts dug a deep grave. And now...
"Zajebat lijudi je znacenije tvog zivota."
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