He thinks he's clever

 He thinks he's a genius

But he's really just a cunt

Musing on the pecking of the ground

He thinks he's a genius but I know him

 as a hunter always in search of what he's already found

And all of the tree trunks to him

They lay bare their rings 

For he is a purveyor of such things

After he has cut them down

And like a false king, he wears on his head

Their green crown

Oh he thinks he's a genius but he's

Really just a cunt

He lives in Cunt Towers it's up the end of the road

Everybody knows him,

He's the Neighbourhood toad

He really came from nothing

And built his castle for his runts

He thinks he's a genius but he's really just a cunt

What is a genius but a slicer of pies

Who serves it out to the poor who live

In his pig sties

But he keeps most for himself

He'll be a  fat rich man before he dies

He thinks he's a genius, but he's really just a cunt

But then with all his riches and his mountains of gold

Where does he go when he's beyond the earthly manifold?

Sure his body will rot to the ground

But his soul, will be a haunted one stuck in lost not found

I fear he won't make purgatory, so pray for his soul

I fear it maybe swallowed up by the blackest of holes

Right across the river Acheron where the ferry man Charon punts

He'll be explaining how he's a genius, when he's really just a cunt