Standing on Sussex, Detached

--- I’ve been on roller coasters before but this is the only one that I really want off. The high is too high and the lows are too many. No matter; the weather will wear this ride to ruins. Industry is the rime, This is death by Coleridge, Capital commits capital crimes, From coal to sub-prime mortgage. Big houses, groomed streets A regular house has a sign that reads “Maison Friechet” - Which makes it anything but. This place is anything but normal. They sacrificed real for ideal – The roller coaster melted into cast iron fences to cage a tulip littered lawn. The weather will wear these privy ramparts to ruins. --- Walk down these groomed streets and see but a few souls, Feel the aura of thick wallets. Won’t be asked for anything, and if anything is needed – just ask. This place is anything but normal. I don’t believe that you don’t have to pay to make a fortune – And I don’t believe words that differ. Pursuit of capital commits capital crimes – Scrutiny should be stiffer. And this place is anything but real. Wonder asks, what was the cost - the price of such widespread fortune? I know that sacrifice is often plenty. What was the price to make this inland island ideal? Inconsequential, the weather will wear this place to fields. --- I’m standing on Sussex, detached. Staring at the incestuous offspring of profits; Our prophets would frown. This place soars higher than any other, The pinnacle of the Canadian ride; Let me off, I want to be with the rest, Hand in hand, side by side. Gradients change under pressure, A nice high can cause a great low. Storms are always a brew, But that’s nothing you didn’t already know. And I’m standing on Sussex, enraged. But society is a force as strong as Mother Nature; Lo! With the wind and rain, the weather will wear this place to ruins.