''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.''