Market Goods.

If you were seen as goods

I’d buy you at the market,

see the sale price on you

and put you in my basket.

I’d take you to the tradesman

who’d say “Cor blimey, Guv,

you know, you get what you pay for

and for that you won’t get love.”

I’d have thought you were a bargain

and I wouldn’t even haggle

but if I knew what I know now

I would have for the hassle.

The tradesman could have dolled you up

with tassles bright and gay,

but if I knew what I knew now

“You’re jokin’!” I would say.

“A few quid to feel miserable?

I could just watch Schindler’s List!

A few quid for bland interior?

I think I’ll give it a miss.”

I deserve much better

and will go more upmarket now,

be more fussy with my window-shopping,

no more second rate hand-me-downs.

Go back to your first owner,

or to the bargain bin,

there’s more treasure than silver and

gold, mate,

happiness comes from within.

I’d much rather be alone

than insecure and unfulfilled.

I’d rather be alone,

than with someone of weak wills.

So next time I’ll think twice

before I make it to the till,

am I just buying crap again?

When I should save for better still.

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