I Don’t Go Into Stores

A post-consumerist fantasy. I never buy anything new – except the canoe cupholder.

I don’t go into stores
I forage at their back doors
People throw out what I can’t live without
So why would I go into stores?
I’m never seen in banks
They offer me services I say no thanks
You’re serving yourself
Masquerading as a friend
I have no friends in banks, so no thanks

I’ve never bought anything new
Though warranty’s handy it’s true
There are nicks and scratches
On everything I own
I’ve destroyed the economy
But I will not atone

I mute all the ads on TV, it’s all leering
They really are something to see, without hearing
To allow them out loud would not be good child-rearing
Besides, I’m religious, you see, ad-fearing

Why would I go into,
I rarely even pass through
I wouldn’t stoop to
They mainly sell dog doo
So unless I need a kazoo
Or a cupholder for my canoe
Otherwise I’ll make do

I don’t go into stores
I forage at their back doors
People throw out what I can’t live without
So why would I go into stores?

I reject all those free credit cards
I scissor them into unuseable shards
I get them quite often
But I will not soften
They’re sent by the Waffen
So scissors it is…are.

No I don’t go through their doors
I don’t walk on their floors
I’d rather stay outdoors
And demonstrate against wars
Well all right, if I need new drawers
But otherwise no.

Why would I go into,
I rarely even pass through
I wouldn’t stoop to
They mainly sell dog doo
So unless I need a kazoo
Or a cupholder for my canoe
Otherwise I’ll make do

I don’t go into stores
I forage at their back doors
People throw out what I can’t live without
So why would I go into stores?