He's egocentric, he's deluded, and his mind is stalling. He wants your recognition, He wants your lauding, A rampant dilettante, always marauding, In fields he's got no knowledge of, it's all according, To his insatiable need of mass applauding, His life-goal is a standing ovation, that'd be rewarding, Even if he has to do some embellishment, or some slight defrauding, He wants your praise, despite the fact he knows it's quite appalling, He's read on it, he knows the score, and yet he keeps recalling, How in his childhood, all adults he knew just kept on calling, Him a little wunderkind, a genius that always kept on scrawling, And hoarding facts he barely knew, but thought were quite enthralling. He was just trying to figure things out, trying to find his calling. But then he started going to school, and it was beyond galling, It was his fault. He caused surfeit, his ways had caused the palling, The bullies didn't leave him be, and then he started bawling, It did not work, and that was it, his skies then started falling, He had to keep appeasing them, to be a rat, and start on crawling, Cease his ways and keep a ruse, fade away and stop the spalling, Of his fragile self-image, his last resort; he tried to avoid the mauling. He dreamt of how he'd change the world and make his mark on history, And that's how he'd show them.