Trickle

Nature abhors vacuum powered jackhammers
Earth stammers loose to give way to a land of bilk and glamour
Which ore wore it best to clog pores of ground water left?
Large bore diggers, dollar to sales figures, de rigueur derelict

But that’s beside the point, make a sign on the dot joined line
Today it looks downtrodden, but tomorrow its godowns of cotton
Or maybe a seller’s marketplace, laced with po-faced cash take
Move past stakes to slake the iconoclast’s apostate bond break

If you build it, they will come, flog extinct animal skin vintage drum
Conundrum of income tainted by bunkum makes it all come undone
Same worker who lay bricks threads high fashion he never wore for the store
Supply exceeds demand, no more vacuum sealed clothes left for nature to abhor

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