Lyrics The Discards (Live) - Leslie Fish

Look on the horizon here
What do my eyes behold?
Is that a herd of bison
Or a convoy rolling bold?
Could that be my old master
And all his princely crew?
Who fled from all disaster
That they put us peasants through
They put us peasants through

Who else would roll so proudly
Across this blasted land?
Who else would bitch so loudly
On every channel band?
Now, do they think that no one
Could stay out here alive?
Or did they think us low'uns
Were too stupid to survive
Too stupid to survive?

Why did they leave their bunkers
They built so long ago?
Did they come forth to conquer
Or did their fuel run low?
Their wheels so sleek and glossy
All stuffed with high-tech gear
No longer look so bossy
After driving long out here
Driving long out here

For what looks good in planning
May not be built to last
Tech toys wear out with manning
Replacements run out fast
The salesman's proud assurance
Won't hold you up in hell
Survival means endurance
And we learned that lesson well
Oh, we've learned that lesson well

For when they fled the city
And left us to our fate
No panic and no pity
Nor did we stand and wait
The junkyards left 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 faster
For lack of fragile gear
We've stripped down to essentials
Of 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 ramming
And 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
The fourth is blown to hell
The fifth is losing power
The sixth has lost a wheel
This fight won't last the hour
Tell me, master, will you deal?
Dear old master, will you deal?

Yeah, 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
Oh, your sweet ass is mine

Hehe, that's Bill Gates, that's Bill Gates