Title: "Claude Took My Job" Verse 1 I’m fifty-five with a badge that don’t beep anymore, Got a résumé folded soft in my coat pocket floor. The email said “reorg,” said it nice and polite, Signed by a kid and an algorithm that don’t sleep at night. They named it Claude, like it’s somebody’s son, Trained on the dreams of what we all thought we’d done. Verse 2 built my life in commits and merges and calls, Stand-ups, sit-downs, dry erase walls. I taught the juniors how to read the logs, How to talk to servers like stubborn old dogs. Now I’m obsolete like a language no one runs, Still hummin’ syntax under my tongue. Chorus I got five empty IPAs in a six-pack sack, One cold hope I ain’t cracked just yet in the back. I used to ship fixes at two a.m., Now I’m refactoring how to be a man. A Bot Name Claude took my job, But he never felt this heavy goin’ home. Verse 3 I’m sittin’ in a café with a chipped white mug, Wi-Fi strong, but my hands kinda shrug. Barista’s got tattoos older than my code, She smiles like she knows where this story goes. I swear she sees straight through my borrowed calm, Sees the pink slip echo in my open palm. Verse 4 My phone lights up, says my wife’s on her way, I rehearse the truth I ain’t brave enough to say. She’ll say “We’ll be fine,” but I’ll hear the math, Mortgage, college, the long thin path. I used to be useful, a god of code. Now I’m prayin’ dignity don’t \sto at 55. Chorus I got five empty IPAs in a six-pack sack, One cold hope I ain’t cracked just yet in the back. I trained machines to think I was smart, Never taught myself how to restart. A Bot Name Claude took my job, But he never felt this heavy goin’ home. Bridge The barista calls my name, misspells it bad, Hands me a cup like she ain’t mad. For a second I’m just another guy, Not a punchline or an older coder left to die. Verse 5 There’s a line in the code that I still believe, Every system breaks where the humans leave. You can automate answers, optimize gain, But you can’t teach pride to forget its name. Final Chorus I got five empty IPAs in a six-pack sack, One left to remind me I ain’t all cracked. Tomorrow I’ll learn somethin’ new again, Or teach what I know to whoever can. Claude took my job, yeah, maybe that’s true, And he even helped write a song with me too. Outro The café door closes, night rolls in slow, I tuck that last beer where the shame won’t go. Fifty-five, still standin’, still got my game, Walkin’ out quiet, but I ain’t gone.
