(V1)
He speaks, "bleep, beep, bop!"
Off to do the dishes
While I’m asleep, he’s not
He’s too ambitious

Cleaning the litter box
With a voodoo diligence
Who knew filaments
Could construct such willingness?

Folding socks,
And hanging clothes
With no qualms

I give him high-fives
Even though
He has no palms

When I’m in a bad mood
He plays a program
Of slow songs

He’s partitioned
And conditioned
To do no wrong

I built him so strong…
With the finest of pistons
Three legs, two arms
And a kind disposition

My roommates before
Never liked to listen
Barcoding him onto my lease
Was the best decision

(CHORUS)
He doesn't talk back...
He’s always on track...

He never lies, steals,
Nor combats...

Made of wires & steel,
He’s all that

He’s my crew-mate
Never two-faced
Robot roommate
(CHORUS END)

(V2)
He doesn't pass judgment...
Even when the rug's lint
Clogs up his wheels
He rolls with the punches

He does such justice
Entertaining amongst friends
With his comedy setting
And other various functions

Made of polycarbonate
And Tungsten
He is far from fake
When attending a luncheon

He’ll cut up your steak
While you’re
Busy munchin’

Then later clean your plate
And keep the Gin-Fizzy’s comin’!

He’s a programmatic gentleman…
With no static, bad habits, nor
Lack of intelligence...

Lacking a heartbeat
Part me, part machine..
With the sum of his parts
He's “the life of the party”

(CHORUS)
He doesn't talk back...
He’s always on track...

He never lies, steals,
Nor combats...

Made of wires & steel,
He’s all that

He’s my crew-mate
Never two-faced
Robot roommate
(CHORUS END)

(V3)
He speaks, “Blip, bip, beep”
Off to fold the sheets
Doing laundry
Is hardly a chore for me

While I count sheep, asleep,
He explores and cleans
He’s “more than meets
The eye…”

It’s galore to see..
Him open any door
Accordingly

To the way I coded him
As a noted friend
He’s sworn to be

My life-mate,
My life-coach,
Those primates, in my past
Just gasp once
Him and I approach

So, here’s a toast
To this astromech nomad
Over a synthetic, aesthetic
Tech-savvy slo-jam

So I say,
“Hey bro-ham,”
(blips and beeps and stuff)
“Command Mode,
Dance Program!”