sing a song of offense, a pocket full of wry -- four-and-eighty buzzwords flaked in the sky you wonder at the purpose a poem wants to bring, but isn't that our malady, to think before we sing?

sing a song of offense, a pocket full of wry -- four-and-eighty buzzwords flaked in the sky you wonder at the purpose a poem wants to bring, but isn't that our malady, to think before we sing?
A delightful ditty!