LARS: August 4th, 1990, kicking it across the bay,
when we went straight to that island
on that momentous day.
To explore it, not ignore it, like Christopher C.
MNP and Lars H., pioneers adrift at sea.
And so we went ashore,
knowing not what was in store,
âtill there came a crazy noise that we could not ignore.
Fourteen robo-primates, they came straight for us,
nasty and ugly, like a zit brimming with puss.
So we hopped into our boat, hoping it would float,
âtill we found a robo-monkey had chewed it like a goat.
And a big hole remained at the bottom of our craft,
as it began to sink, the robo-creatures laughed.
Then out of the woods came more robots by the dozens,
daddies, mommies, aunts, and uncles, grandmas, grandpas, and cousinsâŚ
whole robo-families, thirsting for blood.
Vampiric evil machines caked in oil, grease, and mud.
CHORUS
Escape from Robot Island,
weâll take them to the desert
trip their circuits and fry them.
Canât stay in Robot Island,
these robots are maniacal,
I'll sweep them up and hide them.
Get out of Robot Island,
donât want to be your robo-lunch,
your robo-canned-food-blend.
Delete Robot Island, you evil R2D2âs,
now itâs time to meet your end.
MNP: Whatâs that you say, boy havenât you heard?
Call me a stupid-ass white boy, flip me the bird?
I want to smack you right now in the face,
but theyâre locked on me, stalking this place.
Today has been a scary day,
these robots they donât want to play,
their bodies are metallic gray,
their wires look like plastic hay.
These robots chased us through the night,
everybody knows that I put up a fight
to the different kinds, they blow my mind,
giant eyeball watching me reading my mind.
There are fury ones with blades
coming out of their fur,
robots riding chariots just like Ben-Hur,
a ton that will toss you in a chasm,
balls that drill you like in Phantasm.
Tall ones, short ones, round ones, long ones,
little ones, green ones, right ones, wrongs.
Batteries not included, these things attack,
Model ZX goes for your sack.
Big metal teeth ainât too friendly.
Mechanical death? Thatâs not for me!
All the different Doomsday Machines,
we have to stop them with live-or-die means.
They have their cold metallic hearts,
soulless just like Kinkade's art,
we need to learn to play the part,
getting out alive is where weâll start.
Saving ourselves, see that is our mission,
like Iâm running from the firm in the novel by Grisham.
Or Tommyknockers, by Mr. King,
on the run and this ainât no dream.
REPEAT CHORUS
MNP: Hiding out on the tree house floor,
evil bots knocking at the door.
LARS: We climbed up here to get away
and weâve been stuck all night and day.
MNP: We built a gun, quadruple barreled,
quiver filled with acid arrows.
LARS: There was a chainsaw that we found,
like Ash we wielded it around.
MNP: We used it like a robot shank,
little did we know the chain would break.
LARS: We hat a copper melting pot,
filled with oil very hot.
MNP: It burned right through the wooden planks,
they climbed up and they said, âThanks.â
LARS: They want violence, not harmless pranks.
MNP: Run, Lars, run, just like Tom Hanks.
ROBOT: Foolish humans, time to die,
weâll gobble you up like ham on rye.
LARS: Weâve done everything that we can do;
it was up to me, now itâs up to you.
MNP: The arrows, we still have those,
letâs fire them and see how it goes.
ROBOT: Foolish humans, that wonât work.
Weâll get you both, prepare to hurt.
Your blood will drip,
your blood will spurt and
youâll be six feet under dirt.
MNP: So this is what it feels like being the prey?
The early bot gets the human, or so they say.
LARS: Wait! Itâs time to die? I donât want to go yet!
I never went to Russia or owned a private jet.
I never kissed a lion or went bowling nude,
Iâve never gone hang gliding or had hamster food.
MNP: Pull yourself together man,
youâre getting me annoyed.
Letâs not go out in shame!
Letâs go out shooting droids.
You forgot about my Remington
taped to my Smith & Wesson,
my aim is next to perfect,
letâs teach these things a lesson.
Stop!
ROBOT: No!
LARS: Shoot!
MNP: Yes, Iâm about to do it.
LARS: Go! MNP: Ha!
LARS: Nice, but weâre not half-way through it.
Thereâs eight-hundred more,
and youâve only got two bullets.
MNP: If anyone can make it,
MNP and Lars can do it.
LARS: Youâre right MNP,
letâs overcome our fears,
machines wonât run humanity
like twisted engineers.
REPEAT CHORUS