Buyers

We flock to the market by the thousands,
To see what’s being sold,
With vain attempts to feed our hunger
Or drown our thirst with gold.

From sham to sham we make our way,
To try each remedy,
But find no answers to our pain
For any given fee—

For love is not a commodity
That ever could be bought;
And those who leave the market find
’Tis freely given out.