Like a Rolling Stone

Hoje estava observando um morador de rua carregando um monte imenso de lixo num carrinho de madeira. Fiquei me questionando sobre os seus motivos, e cheguei à conclusão de que ele iria vender a "mercadoria" para algum ferro-velho, ou coisa que o valha. As conclusões que cheguei desta hipótese são a base do recente post.

Talvez a serviço de coleta de lixo esteja querendo economizar uns trocados e, visando isso, começou a oferecer uma pequena e simbólica remuneração para quem saísse por aí fazendo o serviço dos lixeiros profissionais. E existe uma ampla classe de marginalizados que faria muito mais que catar toneladas de lixo por ae para conseguirem a subsistência mínima.

Assim, acabamos de vislumbrar uma fórmula para conseguir mão de obra barata, quiçá escrava.
(um outro exemplo disso, mais sutil talvez, seria o recente cargo de guardadores de carros, cada vez mais em alta perante a classe escrava)

Agora a pergunta que me deixa com medo é: Serão somente os mendigos, sem-teto e marginalizados que sofrem este processo de escravidão ? Quantas coisas você faz pela sua subsistência que podem ser encaixadas na mesma categoria de sub-catadores-de-lixo ?

Será que atingiremos uma nova abolição da escravatura, quando todos os homens conquistarão o direito de correrem atrás de seus sonhos e atingirem a felicidade ? Ou continuaremos sendo chutados e rolaremos como pedras para um futuro incerto e tenebroso ?

Like a Rolling Stone - Bob Dylan


Once upon a time you dressed so fine
You threw the bums a dime in your prime, didn't you?
People'd call, say, "Beware doll, you're bound to fall"
You thought they were all kiddin' you
You used to laugh about
Everybody that was hangin' out
Now you don't talk so loud
Now you don't seem so proud
About having to be scrounging for your next meal.

How does it feel
How does it feel
To be without a home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

You've gone to the finest school all right, Miss Lonely
But you know you only used to get juiced in it
And nobody has ever taught you how to live on the street
And now you find out you're gonna have to get used to it
You said you'd never compromise
With the mystery tramp, but now you realize
He's not selling any alibis
As you stare into the vacuum of his eyes
And ask him do you want to make a deal?

How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

You never turned around to see the frowns on the jugglers and the clowns
When they all come down and did tricks for you
You never understood that it ain't no good
You shouldn't let other people get your kicks for you
You used to ride on the chrome horse with your diplomat
Who carried on his shoulder a Siamese cat
Ain't it hard when you discover that
He really wasn't where it's at
After he took from you everything he could steal.

How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

Princess on the steeple and all the pretty people
They're drinkin', thinkin' that they got it made
Exchanging all kinds of precious gifts and things
But you'd better lift your diamond ring, you'd better pawn it babe
You used to be so amused
At Napoleon in rags and the language that he used
Go to him now, he calls you, you can't refuse
When you got nothing, you got nothing to lose
You're invisible now, you got no secrets to conceal.

How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?