I have been held in this orphanage for longer than my years. I am made to eat this horrid porridge. They box me on the ears. How often I vow to flee, to go. But this is the only home I know. My stammered speech, my one suitcase, My Orphanage, My hateful place. Like that case, this place I carry Inside of me. It's not so very heavy for a stocky child.
They said my mama's loose. They said she was wild. Though I never knew or saw that woman sent with me this fatal flaw. My strange and puffy moon-like face, My Orphanage, My hateful place. My stringy hair, my lack of grace, My Orphanage, My hateful place.
I could have been lucky like them Happy families Look in my Dark, rotted heardened heart and you will see:
The downcast glance, the empty embrace Of my orphanage, My hateful place.
I'm an evil thing. I am way full of something That was left by the side of the road. I am chipped, curly-lipped. Never any kindness was shown.