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