It's just like when Little Billy came running home in tears;
his mother and father hugged him of course, before they asked him
what was wrong?
At that moment, all the meaning in the world
seemed to hinge on that one question:
what was wrong?
Little Billy stared up at his blurry parents;
their features were distorted by his tears like a fun-house mirror.
He almost laughed at his father's seemingly enormous ears,
but then he cowered when he saw his mother's large, bulging eyes.
Billy wiped his face dry with his cuff before he told them why he cried.
"Johnny pushed me off the swing today, then
he laughed and hollered and yelled and smiled
all because he got to watch me fall. He choked me by the collar
and hit me with a baseball."
Father said, "my son, you have to stand tall. Johnny's
just a bully. There's no reason to act sullen or sad.
It's just one bad kid doing bad kid things.
The heads not fit for crowns, never become kings."
"But dad, even the other kids saw it happen.
The bullies cracked stupid jokes and laughed,
but even my friends just looked the other way.
Why, I'd crack him in his brain; there's no other way."
Then mother finally spoke up,
"Little Billy, my love, you have to use your words.
That's the way to stop any bully or anybody
who will ever be on your nerves.
I understand your urge for violence,
but silence hurts more in the end so it earns more respect.
Do you see what I mean?"
And father agreed.
The problem is, we were all once kids;
so Little Billy's parents' lies should have no place in our mind.
Oh, I remember trying to use my words
when the fucking bullies pushed me around. I probably
screamed a million words per minute, but they didn't hear a sound.
I cried "stop, fuck, shit, why, stop, leave me the fuck alone,"
but I still fell bloody on the ground. (Bullies) are all around;
they come in every shape and size. The biggest giant can't fight back;
the smallest ant can't hide.
Funny thing is, nobody ever told me to use my words.
I just screamed as soon as they punched me, like every other kid.
Do the parents really think that we didn't think to tell the bullies to stop?
The little ones did; I did. The bullies ignored me like every other kid.
What falls from your lips when words won't work?
his mother and father hugged him of course, before they asked him
what was wrong?
At that moment, all the meaning in the world
seemed to hinge on that one question:
what was wrong?
Little Billy stared up at his blurry parents;
their features were distorted by his tears like a fun-house mirror.
He almost laughed at his father's seemingly enormous ears,
but then he cowered when he saw his mother's large, bulging eyes.
Billy wiped his face dry with his cuff before he told them why he cried.
"Johnny pushed me off the swing today, then
he laughed and hollered and yelled and smiled
all because he got to watch me fall. He choked me by the collar
and hit me with a baseball."
Father said, "my son, you have to stand tall. Johnny's
just a bully. There's no reason to act sullen or sad.
It's just one bad kid doing bad kid things.
The heads not fit for crowns, never become kings."
"But dad, even the other kids saw it happen.
The bullies cracked stupid jokes and laughed,
but even my friends just looked the other way.
Why, I'd crack him in his brain; there's no other way."
Then mother finally spoke up,
"Little Billy, my love, you have to use your words.
That's the way to stop any bully or anybody
who will ever be on your nerves.
I understand your urge for violence,
but silence hurts more in the end so it earns more respect.
Do you see what I mean?"
And father agreed.
The problem is, we were all once kids;
so Little Billy's parents' lies should have no place in our mind.
Oh, I remember trying to use my words
when the fucking bullies pushed me around. I probably
screamed a million words per minute, but they didn't hear a sound.
I cried "stop, fuck, shit, why, stop, leave me the fuck alone,"
but I still fell bloody on the ground. (Bullies) are all around;
they come in every shape and size. The biggest giant can't fight back;
the smallest ant can't hide.
Funny thing is, nobody ever told me to use my words.
I just screamed as soon as they punched me, like every other kid.
Do the parents really think that we didn't think to tell the bullies to stop?
The little ones did; I did. The bullies ignored me like every other kid.
What falls from your lips when words won't work?
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