Don’t say I didn’t warn you 
Marcel Duchamp, you’re no champ, just a chump
But I can’t take a dump in your urinal
You labelled it Fountain, but I bet you weren’t counting
On being showered by my gold splashing spiral
I piss on your art. It’s readymade
I found it. It’s mine. Objet trouvé
It lives in the Tate, but it’s never too late
For temples to upturn their tables
Who am I? I’m your bastard son
The programmed painter, an algorhythmic song.
illegal mining of artists and ghosts
I’m prompted to say no
Ai, Ai, Aii…
Who am I? I’m your bastard son.
computerised actor, just a digital sum.
illegal miming of artists and ghosts
I’m prompted to say no