Lies
I may be a young man
But I now I feel so old
Sick and tired of the lies
I'm constantly being told
To me our town was good
A warm quaint place to live
But youthful naivete blinded my eyes
And all the love I had to give
I did love my father Atticus
He and Scout were all I had
And though we always fought
I never long stayed mad
One Sunday I walked by a crowd of kids
Yelling "Looka over there!"
Them nigger loving Finches is with their maid
"Maybe we should give them a scare."
Familiar faces I thought I knew
All had horrible things to say
The insults reverberated inside my head
While the hurt grew day by day
Atticus told us to stay strong
That the worst is yet to come
Though Scout tried the best she could
She could not let her heart go numb
But violence just was not the way
It had not solved a thing
What answer can be born of bloody bruises
What kind of justice can that bring?
Truth was not the reason
A good man had to die
But the will of ignorant men
And those sick, twisted lies