The speaker here is not a person but something like a faceless watcher, perhaps a company or an app, that boasts about how much it knows about you. Every line begins with "I know," and the list moves from money and free time to private habits like singing in the shower, then to friendships, tastes and online searches. Nothing is too small or too personal to escape notice.
The tone is smug and a little taunting. The exclamation marks make the speaker sound proud, almost cheerful, which is what makes it unsettling. The most chilling moment comes in the second-to-last line: "Protecting data? No hurry!" The speaker knows no one is really going to stop it, so it can afford to be relaxed.
The mood is uneasy and quietly accusatory. The title, "Just Accept It!", sounds like a shrug, as if privacy is already lost. The poem seems to ask whether we have gotten too comfortable with being watched.