Ordinary Crap

[Verse 1] The brushstroke ain't loud, but it speaks in the breeze, Invisible to the crowd, just whispers to trees. Masterpiece is a whisper, not a billboard on blast, Fakes yellin’ they mastered it, but their shadows don't last. [Bridge] The paint drips slow, truth dancin' in the dark, Call it crap, call it gold, it depends on the spark. Noise of the wood, got the ego unglued, But silence speaks volumes when the deaf misconstrue. [Chorus] Fall of a giant, ain't no sound on the ground, Cuz the ones who ain't lookin' barely seem to be around. Master what ain't seen, that's the realest of the schemes, But a critic with no vision never steps into the dreams. [Verse 2] Your handmade flaws, they label ‘em trash, While they flex ancient truths with a marketing stash. Art ain't for the jaded; it blooms in soft cracks, Under dirt, under doubt, where them haters turn their backs. [Bridge] Is it the noise or the silence that makes it divine? Or a critic fillin’ voids with opinions over fine wine? They bound by the echoes, they trapped in the bark, While the real masters see through the woods to the spark. [Chorus] Fall of a giant, ain't no sound on the ground, Cuz the ones who ain't lookin' barely seem to be around. Master what ain't seen, that's the realest of the schemes, But a critic with no vision never steps into the dreams.