Affiliate Marketing Secrets

(chorus)
all is vanity that’s what humanities comprised off
plus a smidgen of pidgin filling fallen from above
each glance in the mirror slowly saps your sanity
till the crutched kid in the corner screams all is vanity
all is vanity, that’s what humanities made of
walk around like targets for the market to enslave us
each glance in a window pane shows what you’d rather be
till the leaper kid in the corner screams
suzie was born in June in time to see the flowers wilt
a bubbling bouncing baby who thought herself more powerful
though she saw the flowers fall and die despise the rain
she’d mimic the formaldehyde and never do the same
adventurous her parents called her rebellious they’d think
when suzie tried for the millionth time to jump off the kitchen sink
and after her parents caught her and set her on the ground
she’d yell, i was only trying to fly, mouth folded in a frown
at age 12 suzie had some questions, that were left unanswered
so she swallowed and locked them behind a secret password
the next day her mother was hospitalized for cancer
and though suzie looked unflustered she had bottled up her anger
they say the day her mother died suzie sighed but did not cry
she went to school like normal, did not leak what was inside
on the bus ride back home she sat alone and shed a tear
and that kid at the back of the bus said for all to hear
suzie blossomed, got lost in her own moccasins
self proclaim queen of the teen age dream monolith
soon grew conscious of all the prospects that wanted in
there was no escaping her toxins so she flaunted them
but kept her heart callous. Only aimed for the established
parish-pimps till they made it rain with lavish
habits, none of them placid or flaccid
but all the endless fancies couldn’t kill suzie’s anguish
so she wiffed the sacred mist to see where all the faces went
the second time was to forget that she had ever taken it
all the city latex would crowd in amazement
when she had her way with the pavement of every drainage ditch or basement
when will suzie ever learn that mellow is a lie
that the meadow in the mind is a devil in disguise
i guess the yellow that is lie must have settled in her eye
by the time the kid in the corner bellowed to the sky
suzie died in may, the skies cried, the violent day
made no effort to hide dismay that lives should lie in graves
the wind wept the flowers in a pious wave
and each shuddered to think they would die the same
each shuddered to think that night might invade
each shuddered to think where light might escape
each shook, till they could no longer look
and mistook a bag of soot for a babbling brook
to this day if you take the long route past the bombed house
you can see the box where a lit match has gone out
see the chips in the tombstone that used to be gilded
the flowers on her grave are wilted like she willed it
i guess petals never droop down enough to feel the thorn’s burn
but out of her thousand closest friends, no one came to mourn her
but the coroner offered some warm dirt to adorn her
she should have been willing to listen to the kid in the corner