On Balmoral Ave, the crowd does roam,
A bustling street, where many call home.
A man walks by, his hands held high,
With bags of purchases, passing by.
He carries all, both near and far,
The weight of modern life in a jar.
Buy this, buy that, the cycle spins,
From goods to services, it never ends.
Electricity, gadgets, and more to claim,
Each item bought, each new gain.
In Springvale’s heart, he strides along,
A symbol of the world’s endless song.
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