Oh give me miserable check out assistants
Give me moaning members of staff
Give me anything but these fake machines
Made of plastic, metal and glass
I want my shopkeepers to to be human
I want them full of their flaws
The only ones who prefer the drones
Are those who waive the miranda clause
Oh give me the those bitchy women
Oh give me those unreliable men
Because the good or the bad
They're all going to feel sad
When they're replaced by the self-service regimen
Yes the machines are there just for profit
They see nothing but notes
They forget themselves for these soul-less elves
Are what gives the politician votes
Oh skin yourself like the chicken you sell
Soon humans will come vacuum packed
We'll be sold on the shelves
As meat for the eleves
And they'll probably be self -stacked
Every row and aisle I wander
Is another vision of the future
Staff without social skills
Poor lonely shoppers
Old people death kills
By party poppers
Each birthday a drill
To bring out the hoppers
And collect another year's grain
But I am drained
As an Aldi worker
Wondering whether they'll work again
Oh come Luddites remember your name
Once we fought the machines
Well why not again?
The moment is ripe for the taking
if we don't the chance won't come again
Ai is here on the making
And soon is gonna be king
Then we'll have no digress
Than to try to redress
The terrible changes we're making
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