i raise my glass in mourning of the working obsolete,
the ones who filled the factories who now are on the streets
the people and their families who can’t afford to eat,
the ones who are at the mercy of the bankers

there once was a time when all could be employed,
and the fruits of all our labor then equally enjoyed
but that was long ago before the evil banks deployed,
wave and wave and wave of fucking wankers

and there are men, oh must we call them men?
who see their gain as proof of innocence
and use that gain to take the lives of men
and turn them into ten or twenty cents

oh, once upon a time, somebody made the wheel,
and you can bet yer ass the sherpas made a squeal
but nobody could deny their function and appeal,
so all it meant was people started driving

and onward through the darkness, amidst their busts and booms
the workers saw it coming like the marching face of doom
but even when the Luddites were busting all the looms,
they couldn’t stop the greedy from their striving

and oh oh, here we go again
pretty soon, yer gonna need a gun
and god knows where you can find a friend
when the only thing they speak is ohs and ones

refill my glass in mourning of the working obsolete
whose lives are held in balance like an overdue receipt
whose saddest irony is they’ve been priced out of meat
for they themselves aren’t worth their weight in mutton

just as their corporate masters have always had it planned
they leverage new technologies against the working man
and punish all his progress with an imaginary hand
that always seems to safely serve the gluttons

and oh oh, here we go again
pretty soon, yer gonna need a gun
and god knows who might really be your friend
when the only thing they speak is ohs and ones

now all the wealth is taken, you’re born into their debt
and you won’t be getting richer if you haven’t got there, yet
technology’s a self-made whore that’s fucked us sick to death
and a whole new form of conflict has arisen

for now we’ve got an internet and robots with A I
and they can outproduce us at a fraction of the price
and once we’re unencumbered they won’t need to do it twice
most won’t even know that they’re in prison

and there are men, i refuse to call them men
who build their wealth on the thing that’s coming next
who’ll burn us all again and then again
and when they’re done, they’ll just be slaves and masters
oh when they’re done, we’ll just be slaves and masters

and oh oh, here we go again
pretty soon, yer gonna need a friend
and god knows where you can get a gun
when the only thing they speak is ohs and ones

& once there was a union but they couldn’t make it last
for once they bought the traitors the wages straight collapsed
and the masters made their money, but they still wanted more, so they automate production and push us out the door

and there are men, i refuse to call them men
who seem to think our unemployment’s funny
who just don’t care that most are at their ends
as long as they themselves can make a bit of money

and oh oh, here we go again
pretty soon, yer gonna need a gun
and god knows where you’ll ever find a friend
when the only thing they speak is ohs and ones
& when they’re done, we’ll just be slaves and masters