So your fou-pen plunges per-month to the freshest fashion,
Fires-off fervour like some wannabe Khusro 'r Poe,
In the fanciest fantasy to be the greatest in a generation,
Such is 'nother Wunderkind, no, Alter Ego?

{Wunderbar, Wunderkind}

Your poetry serves as its own apology,
Ha, you're lucky you're sixteen, prodigy!

{Doch Wert haben Sie?}

...