Leslie Fish - The Discards [HQ]

Firestorm track 14. Thanks to rocketman0739 for providing high-quality versions of these songs. Download the album here: https://archive.org/details/filk_fire... Find more of Leslie Fish's music at: https://lesliefish.bandcamp.com/ ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Lyrics: Look on the horizon! 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 ran 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 ones 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 food run low? Their wheels so sleek and bossy, All stuffed with high-tech gear, No longer look so glossy 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've learned that lesson well, 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 junkyard 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 miscoding, 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 fight 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.