A pilot in the age of drones 

Seeks legal highs with fatal stones 

Left rattling like a bag of bones 

Grounded and obsolete 


A painter of two thousand cars 

Patrols the seedy dim lit bars

Robotic arms pick at his scars 

He sleeps upon the street 


A taxi driver saw his wealth 

Diminish quicker than his health 

His latest car can drive itself 

The first to join the fleet 


A packer from the factory line

Ignored the early warning sign

Machines now box and send the wine 

She used to think so sweet 


The captain of a nuclear ship

Took orders from a micro chip

Malfunctions let the missile rip 

Into it\'s mother\'s teat