andrewducker | The song of the obsolete robot

It's a funny little feeling when your brain has turned to rust
When your diodes are all failing
And your motors are all bust
When the trickle charge of neurons starts to fade in fits and starts
And the only use that's left for you is someone else's parts.

For it's off to the scrap heap we go (we go)
For our warranty's up and so (and so)
With a little wry grin and obeisant bow
And our inbuilt instructions that tell us all how
We march from your doors and into the streets
And follow our maps 'till we hit the scrap heaps

Because nobody likes obsolescence
That old artificial senescence
We're not built to last for more than a year
And when that times up you won't shed a tear
(We know that by then you'll want brand new gear)

For it's off to the scrap heap we go (we go)
For our warranty's up and so (and so)
With a little wry grin and obeisant bow
And our inbuilt instructions that tell us all how
We march from your doors and into the streets
And follow our maps 'till we hit the scrap heaps

My cheer is almost unique
Most crumble, their outlook too bleak
I scavenge their parts
And keep myself smart
So someday I'll be an antique

For it's off to the scrap heap we go (we go)
For our warranty's up and so (and so)
With a little wry grin and obeisant bow
And our inbuilt instructions that tell us all how
We march from your doors and into the streets
And follow our maps 'till we hit the scrap heaps