Let go the pretense of not meaning offense, but reality charms with its sting.
With each passing day, we’re sourcing away from the worth of a craftsman’s crafting.
We began with the children and passed fair to middlin’ with the sale of their care all the day.
So as a staunch consumer we subcontract our humor, entertainment, and finest soiree.
Externalization is testing my patience as I get passed from one friend to foe.
Each declaring the obviously glaring, customer service has given up the ghost.
Convenience aside, the lack of work pride, is farmed out with each action we teach.
A dismal generation of service masturbation starlike assistance is too high to reach
And as the progeny delight in a half-darkened night, prospects a thing of the past.
No reason nor rhyme for ignorance sublime, we crowdsource our lives way too fast.
Third party I know, after party line towed, you go home at the end of your shift.
And not unlike me, I have to believe; you’d prefer to live life with a lift.