Look at you,
You look like a piece of furniture,
And if we looked at you closely,
We could see your corners so protruding,
So unbecoming,
As soon as we talk to humans.
When your head melts on your screen,
I can read zeros and ones;
In the blue of your eyes out,
I feel like the worst idiot.
Yes, I'm panicking
At the mechanical counter,
My friend if you knew
How much I hate bastards
Who do their job
Another form of trial.
If I barely speak,
It's because there is between you and me
No empathy but formaldehyde,
And a pinch of bad faith.
You protect yourself
From us as from the snow,
One thought freezes you with fear,
Would all it take is one wrong step,
A little setback,
For you to end up like me ,
On the wrong side of the counter,
A little lost but numbered,
Burying your dreams of glory,
Of promotion, of freedom.
Look at me,
I look like a piece of furniture,
And if you look closely at me,
You will be able to see my protruding corners,
So unbecoming,
When I speak of humans.
But I curse the custom which
erects as surely as a law
Boundaries between you, me, him,
As a preamble to anything.
If I speak a little,
It's because there is something between you and me
No empathy but formaldehyde,
And a good dose of bad faith.