Tying my moccasins’ shoe lace,
Buttoning my button-less T-shirt in the morning,
Feeling phantom pains in my now long-gone conscience,
Salting my morning coffee because I am out of sugar,
When any white powdery substance will do,
I try turning on the TV with the cell phone,
Because it resembles the remote control,
That’s how automat-arek I have become.

I still go to the bank’s teller machine,
To withdraw money from a now long cancelled debit card,
I still fill my car with gasoline,
Three years after selling it to someone down on his luck,
That’s how automat-arek I have become.

It seems I have pulled hard on one of my moccasins’ lace it now broke,
I need to go to the now long out-of-business store to get a replacement,
That’s how automat-arek I have become.