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

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

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