bloodless was the fight he'd talk of an immortality that's warped him into an ideogram monument to the big i am whose ideas break the mould in the biopic all will be told a young tony curtis playing him yeah, meet the workshy wunderkind they'll flock to watch the auteur dither holding his infected liver and blank paper, waiting to be blessed his dictaphone begs to be impressed the critics love a long held tease the nations she folk on their knees smell fertility in the wind there goes the workshy wunderkind and everybody, as they stood there and grinned, meant less than the dust to the workshy wunderkind never for real, always bluffing in the garret of suffering the world class sculptor of bullshit for whom adventure is counterfeit and holey shoes are the holy grail art took his hair and made him pale he's thin on effort but thick skinned the self made workshy wunderkind is creative juices remain undisciplined but future glory has been pre-destined and your misunderstanding his reason underpinned how come you have never heard of the workshy wunderkind? with a degree in some vagueology, the fresh air industry was calling and with an inability to blush and an enthusiasm for crawling, twig boy chose the media, he loved it's lack of grace and overcropping he would become a cliche, and pay his way by teaching japs 'English For Shopping' via local news and advertising, he courted arseholes and drank with cretins met a celebrity