Fifth Generation
© Tom Byrne
Author: Tom Byrne
Fifth Generation

The refrigerator's on to me
I think it's in collusion with the cooker
And the television wants to see
The wrestling and I want to watch the snooker

These automatic tyrants all are making me mad
I never get a moment's peace
Their supervision circuits all are sending me sad
Save me from the scourge of these

Fifth generation
Fifth generation
Fifth generation machines
The answer to a positronic dream

These metal marvels' mental mastery
Of real-time applications is a pain
While their cybernetic sensitivity
Will send me to the ranks of the insane

I tried to start the car today, but wouldn't as it nice
Of course the thing refused to move
I walked to work and got there late, but found it was alright
The boss has finally blown a fuse

Fifth generation
Fifth generation
Fifth generation machines
The answer to a positronic dream

It's said that ape begat the man
Then man begat the self programmed machine
Now we live according to some plan
Engendered by a microchip unseen
"You're overweight," the cooker said, "So breakfast's cancelled, see?"
The fridge refused to open too
"Go take a run," the telly said, "You watch too much of me"
Some days I really can't take you

Fifth generation
Fifth generation
Fifth generation machines
The answer to a positronic dream