I was a child prodigy,
A master at young age,
A Grandmaster at age seven,
A prepubescent sage.
Yet time passed by and I got old.
My skills increased as well,
Yet now that I’m a grown-up guy
I’ve lost the magic spell.
Instead of great, unique, and wise
I’m seen as “kinda lame,”
Forty years old, I’ve spent my life
Playing an old board game.
So what happened? What really changed?
Is greatness not enough?
When I was young my life was ease,
But now my life is tough?
It seems as if flying around,
Moving pawns on a board,
Winning trophies and title bouts
Is more impressive when you’re four?
Well then, screw that! I’m done with chess!
I’m moving far away
To be a scary racist hermit
And with myself I’ll play!
But now they call me back to play
A world championship game.
The cold war hinges on my success;
Such is the price of fame.
But afterwards I’m gone again
And that’s just fine with me.
My only hope’s that they will make
A movie about searching for me.
The Daily Travesty 