| He was a poor man, though he was genius
|
| Would they listen to this crazy man
|
| Would they help him to his end
|
| He was a tall man, pale skin and broken back
|
| And no-one knew him, though he was genius
|
| They feared him, locked him away
|
| And in silence would he pray
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| He lived alone, though many voices spoke
|
| He found peace, in his own little world
|
| So they beat him, to his end
|
| He lays forgotten
|
| Dead skin and broken neck
|
| And no-one knew him
|
| Though he was genius
|
| Who was he, that crazy man
|
| Just a loser, to the end |