Arificial intelligence.

fine isn't enough
talent is what i want
nothing can compare
to the limelight; few are spare
when on my selfish way i go
to seek fortune in the low
unruly times of l'hiver
skills are my desire

deep into the night i search myself
for a scrap of love or artistic wealth
the gold pot is genius, ere i go
to the pits of hate and the depths of low
i'm determined to find another muse
away from the lake or the hanging noose
something happy; maybe normal
'least now we know now that ryhming's my downfall.