Purchases for purposes temporary.
Important only once upon a time.
Forgotten by dinner time
Not fit for conversation
Moving along the conveyor belt.

There’s a piggy bank
Not full
From all the money it could hold,

We jingle the coins
In our pockets
Filled with holes

And they roll along the sidewalk
Behind us
Reminding us of better days,

But we’re on to the next one
The next song
The next craze.

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