The Discards

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 the 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 wore out with manning
Replacements went out fast
But salesman's smart 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 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