That gossip

That slander

That earful of chit chat that hits your reputation over the head with a bat

The one that you find back in Daddy's little shed of affliction

You have the key

And you pass around bats like they're going on sale

Innocent conversation that walks on a wire

Makes your throat burn like fire

Because it's the devil's words your spilling

All over the sidewalk and hallways

All over the town like your painting the roses red

Until they're dead

Until you brand them with lies

Until you inject them with your prattle

Your scandal

Your dirty laundry, your calumny, your tall, tall tale

Like it's going on sale

You think that words can't hurt

That's it's just one little myth that slides out of your mouth and into others

Under covers, hurting brothers

That idle talk

Makes a person walk through the room and feel one inch tall

That changes a person's world in an instant

And you watch on the news and you read in the headlines the effect words can have

Words can rule, whether for right or for wrong

Daddy's bat had its own little song

And it's lyrics take lives, cut like knives

Like they're going on sale

You let it out in an exhale

And that campaign, that prate, that buzz

Will pollute every ocean of truth and decency it reaches

All of the pure, untouched beaches

That gossip

That slander

That earful of chit chat that hits your reputation over the head with a bat

The one that you find back in Daddy's little shed of affliction

You have the key