Letra de 93,800 Hours
I won't listen anymore. I'm not here to wash your feet. I'm not here to beg for charms. Here is my stand. Why do you expect me to live my day doing your dirty laundry? I cleanse my skin. This is not my life.
It's not life. This IS NOT life. There's a difference between (just) surviving and (actually) "living", (and) this isn't (the defnition of) living. I'll show you how to live.
(They) scared us into believing this is the only way. We'll run each other over looking for satisfaction. We live our lives in slavery. We're thrown into their work machine. In automatic, nothing's real. I'll run in circles for you. I'll burn myself out for you. I've given my life to you.
What are the benefits of the consequence of conscience that won't let me participate in this? A fun game from them that drains us of our real happiness. What are the benefits of the consequences of conscience? It's hard to smile when years start passing by like this. I'd cash all my checks to understand this burden of compassion