Genius has been thrown around
But it never hits the mark
Madness has a better sound
For the creative spark

My skills are artistic
And I paint in still life
My canvas is realistic
And my materials are rife

Ive been called a madman
For my creative eye
Would I be a bad man,
For letting my spirit fly?

My genius will be realized
With a contented sigh
My work forever immortalized
When I let the blood dry