Nothing is good enough for you,
You critic, you.
You critic,
You
Who will not stop shaking his head,
You who will not stop shaking his head,
His head,
You who picks at your lips and
With a flick of your pen
You split with your wit
And you judge from your gut
And you hollow and wallow yourself
And you rut,
And for what?
To split yourself,
To spit on your books,
To damn and condemn,
With your uncertain looks.
To delete and destroy lest you bring shame on yourself
To pass judgement from one unto one as yourself
To let all of your efforts
Pile up on your shelf.

Nothing is good enough for you,
You critic,
You, You critic, You
Nothing is good enough for you.
You Critic
You.

You who smiles at your style
And devours the work
Who is discouraged and broken by the ultimate jerk
You.
You critic, You.
You critic.

Nothing is good enough for you.