We Do This

We do it rightfully, we do it right.
We do it for money, we cause tornadoes.

We sign autographs where there is nothing left,
We believe in the meaning only of what did not concern us.

We know the prices for fear and the right to shoot,
We learn to pull the shutter in time so as not to die.

And each of us is part of an ideal system,
where the word “guilt” is replaced with “within the scope of the topic.”

We do it to form, we do it right
where every innocent question turns into a cancellation of salary.

And if suddenly someone wants to say it out loud -
it will simply be erased as an extra, flickering sound.

And somewhere inside there remains a naive answer,
as if there was still a chance, but it’s gone.

And we keep walking without a face
the end is just someone else's border.