Wake! Another morning. Over and out.
Remember, you reached the online life of Doctor Robot,
the enslaver, mind eater, dark creator.
We are born in tubes and cables, our love is phoned once a year by an unknown caller,
Who are you, slave?
Your programmed life doesn't interest me that much,
Who are you, slave?

Doctor Robot pushed the button, drove my car, breathed in that direction,
we should build societies and multiple parking lots,
we are enslaved in a never-dying city,
energetic mornings when we get our commands,
holidays with artificial smiles and a cold "Happy birthday".
Programmed on the internet to be delivered in another century,
miles from here, in another galaxy.
Who are you, slave?

Doctor Robot has a rendez-vous, we expect another slave,
this procreation is wanted by millions of slaves,
I look on the window and mother technology feeds me a neurological input,
I search for some human side, hold that thought:
Who are you, slave?