Sticks & Stones

Men were made to talk, babies born to cry
Tears’ll make 'em taller, fear of God gets in their eyes
Sticks and stones may break my bones
But words will cut me down to size
Well I used to stand much taller, but I’ve learned to know my place
Used to scream and holler, now I quietly say grace
With a smilin' face
This old house acts mighty tired
Groans when I get up and it sighs when I retire
Sticks and stones may crack windows
But words will start a fire
So long, see ya ceiling; catch you later, kitchen floor
C’est la vie, old TV that I watched when I was bored
Back screen door
This plot of land may look alone
Once there stood a body, all that’s left is skin and bone
Sticks and stones may shelter some
But words will make it home