Everything's Fine

Everything’s fine, the board is flashing, reports on display. Ten thousand victims—just a vest and a boat sinking away. You’re as good as gone. Strike, grab, and flee. Nothing’s overpriced, no hope—only debris. Twenty euros—just a moment’s task, your soul’s free to sell. Life’s just a trade for flesh; is there much to dwell? Lamb, bread, and wine, hush—don’t dare to pry. There’s no truth in the sea or the sky. Thirty extra—that’s your passport, that’s your asylum. Turned your brother in at customs—guess you’ve won the trial. Crossed the border now; feels like you’ve escaped. Fish swim in the skies, while the sea becomes a grave. You’re as good as gone. Strike, grab, and flee. Don’t glance at others—people are the enemy. Boat and vest—what price will you repay If there’s no truth in the sea or the clay?