Machine

I've got a ten tonne machine and it's working on it's own
It's doing it's own thing while I'm playing on my phone
A behemoth, a genius, although it does have its limit
It can't get sick of working, say fuck it and just bin it


I've got a two wheeled devil although it looks more like a pram
It grunts and guzzles forty miles faster than a man
It's prettier, more useful and more expensive than dull old me
But it's just a hunk of metal without my magic key


I've got a metal box which spits out caffeine daily
And I dread to even visualise the time that it might fail me
But my addiction isn't that bad and I think that I could cope
Wait a minute please it's just that idea's bringing on a stroke