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The Scapegoat

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The scapegoat, the scapegoat, the scapegoat,
The one they blame when thing's aren't right.
With their words they attack him on sight.
The family treats him like a blight.
He longs for the quiet loneliness of the night.

The scapegoat, the scapegoat, the scapegoat,
Somehow it's always his fault.
His personality is as sweet as salt.
Conversations with him come to a screeching halt.
His heart is harder than granite or basalt.

The scapegoat, the scapegoat, the scapegoat,
Forever cursed to be a lonely thing.
His family's words come with a biting sting.
Songs of anguish his heart does sing.
He wishes to leave his house, to take wing.

Gather people together and they'll choose an outcast.
They leave one, tired, worn and downcast.
And who is this, whose soul from happiness must fast?
The scapegoat, the scapegoat, the scapegoat.





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