Mr. Wonka

You gave me some speech about artistry and commerce and fame
You fancy yourself Jesus, Shakespeare, Kid Charlemagne
I believed you, yes I did, but now it seems so obvious
That all your five-dollar and your piercing blue eyes
And your promises aren’t nearly as deep as all the
Hemingway you read and the songs you claim to like
Thank you Mr. Wonka, but heretofore I’ve been fine
You talk you learned from great actors; the classics, the best
You fancy yourself Humphrey Bogart or Cary Grant
Can I hear you? Yes I can, but you’re not making any sense
You got your five-dollar, all your thoughts seem to rhyme
You speak iambic pentameter
Well chivalry’s dead and Oz was just a lie
Thank you Mr. Wonka but quite frankly, you’ve wasted my time