Robot Zombies With Ghostly Appetites

For the last time I think I've escaped Your gratutituous number munching But then as quick as a high-def blink I'm back in the barn with the cannibals Flesh mongering mammals With digits tied to mandibles Trodding through robotic arenas Without a finite-sniffing clue Battery unplugged, feet pressed to rugs They land proud on towels Wondering about next meals What deal could peel back some onion flesh? Salamanders finance the change Or simply rearrange the same Tug boating at a new horizon Still consuming ghosts and roaches till the end of time