Vendorhead

You are an affectation
of what has come to pass
Your butane smile's indelible,
Your words are thoughtless gas,
You live like a Coke machine,
Convince me of your strife,
Tasty tyke take dictation
Smell the price of life

You've got to look good
You've got to have all your accoutrement right in place
You've got to look good
You've got to have all our faith

Needle eyes and hands slate
Regard a stiff repose
Contemplate your mindless fate
While powdering your nose
Loathing all that you can't fathom
Coupled by your pride
Nurturing a made-up kingdom
Scatter it with lies