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I count days, not years anymore,

because we won’t have any more.

I only live for the day; sustainability means nothing to me now.

When they once again sacrificed themselves with euphoria

on the altar of elite profit interests,

my flesh will already be rotting.

I will never be their martyr.

Why fight for survival

if the reward is only harder struggles to survive?

Effort and outcome - i calculate coldly

and draw the final balance.

When they once again sacrificed themselves with euphoria

on the altar of elite profit interests,

my flesh will already be rotting.

A worker has no fatherland.

And even if my death comes by my own hand,

my true murderer is capital!