Leslie Fish - The Discards Lyrics
Look on the horizon.What do my eyes behold?Is that a herd of bisonOr a convoy rolling bold?Could that be my old masterAnd all his princely crew,Who ran from the disasterThat they put us peasants through,They put us peasants through?Who else would roll so proudlyAcross this blasted land?Who else would ***** so loudlyOn every channel band?Now do they think that no oneCould stay out here alive,Or did they think us low onesWere too stupid to survive,Too stupid to survive?Why did they leave their bunkersThey built so long ago?Did they come forth to conquer,Or did their food run low?Their wheels so sleek and bossy,All stuffed with high-tech gear,No longer look so glossyAfter driving long out here,Driving long out here.For what looks good in planningMay not be built to last.Tech toys wore out with manning.Replacements went out fast.But salesman's smart assuranceWon't hold you up in hell.Survival means endurance,And we've learned that lesson well,We've learned that lesson well.For when they fled the cityAnd left us to our fate,No panic and no pity,Nor did we stand and wait,But jumped up and, unguarded,We looted for our tools.We may have been discarded,But that didn't make us fools,That didn't make us fools.So come on, dear old master,And see what's waiting here.Our wheels can roll the fasterFor lack of fragile gear.We've stripped down to essentialsOf armor, wheels, and gun.Don't send me your credentials;This is no computer run,No computer run.No radar for your jamming,No lasers to deflect.Just armor made for rammingAnd bullets worth respect.No comps for your misquoting,No optics to distrust.Your chips are overloading,And your laser eats my dust,Your laser eats my dust.Now one of you is burning.Another's punctured well.A third is overturning.A fourth is blown to hell.The fifth is losing power.The sixth has lost a wheel.This fate won't last the hour.Tell me, master, will you deal,Master, will you deal?I'll leave you live and walking ...As much as you left me!Surrender or quit talking;Choose death or poverty.Ah, you're running like the others!My guns come up to line!Your friends can face my brothers,Master, your sweet ass is mine,Your sweet ass is mine
