Customer Service Poem by soren Barrett

I have traded a winning lottery ticket for sunshine promises and rainbow dreams
Isaack had a no return policy on all pottage sales
Cracked pots smoke prophet weed for profit on California shores
There smoke gets in your eyes as platters sing songs and Mack the knife is dropped
A blue moon where one can spoon, so many forks
The young will not understand these old words
A prophet speaks to the deaf and Eden ends its going out of business sale