Blame the Ending - Criticism Abundant Lyrics

Critics looking for flaws
Conclusion in, it's critically flawed
Never constructive, reducing it down, destructive
Criticism abundant
It's lacking poetic realism
There are no emotions, it's not character driven
It doesn't transport or change me
What year is it set in
1841 or 2023
It's the work of a raging narcissist
A closet architect who can't design
Or select the correct bubbles
Fumbling with tools, mumbling about rules
Must have dropped out of school
Misinterpreted the silence
Must have a healthy ego
Must hallucinate a halo
Must be pretty special
Left to wrestle with a collective
And go full detective in front of a mirror
Should have been clearer
No one cheers when the crowd disappears
He revels in obscurity and wholesale purity
Of isolated creativity, breaks, and fixes
Driving madness, methods, and muddy mixes
The last decade tried
To expose big lies
To find him hiding inside
To track down time or anyone on his side
Someone should charge him, she charges
Can't remember when this all started
No one cares about his city
About his youth about the truth
Like a booth people skip as they're passing through
Come up with better stories
Come up for air, you're drowning
Get off camera if you can't stop frowning
You're pounding your town down to pueblos
A village idiot broadcast for web trolls
Just about ready to unload
Another load of codes and clues
Big spook, big tools, bitter fools
Folding and fleeing, carpe noctem or diem
He should get specific
How can we appreciate the vision
If we can't feel the fission
If we can't see the details
If we can't taste the places
Or touch the faces
Or tongue the braces
No one needs your autobiography
Skip the foreword, bored by page three
Another tale of glut or greed
Flowing eternal like a peripheral
Attached to glitchy internals
An internalized glow inside an inferno
Best to take a vow of silence
From weird science and this unholy alliance
With advocates or proponents
Victory goes to the opponents
They've always known it
You can't read the tea leaves
Or stop the breeze
Or save the trees
Or kill the weeds
Or say anything unique
About urban streets or rural simplicity
Or past or present
Or oligarch or peasant, or fox or pheasant
Time to quit trying
Time flies when you're slowly dying
Or slowly living in optimal conditions
No ghetto essence
No social critique
No classic tale of redemption
No arc, no flashbacks, or repeats
No special mention, no collabs, no features
Not a vehicle for profits
Or a launchpad for prophets
To predict a crash from a cockpit
Can we at least get a lesson
Some morals and ethics, atonements and blessings
Instead we get this when no one wanted it
No one bought it or greeted it
No one's moving or slinging it
No one's lip-syncing or singing it
Only one producer
That won't do here
Go back pre-Illmatic
Feels problematic
And the producer is the artist
Can't run a race by yourself with no one to start it
So in conclusion do better
Better yet don't bother
Hang up your gear, put down the mic
Walk away quietly
You were never in this fight
You were never a good fit
Listen to us now
We're the critics
Yeah, critics looking for flaws
Conclusion's in, it's critically flawed