What on earth is going on in the world,
All of this is wrong.
Before I was eleven,
looking after a little child from heaven,
In a home with a mum who was drunk,
Letting strange men in,
Thumping around.
Cold and unwarming,
Chilling to the bone,
No food in the dish,
No bread on the table.
Vodka was for breakfast time,
This was indeed, the crime ?.
Sickness did reside in the home,
Too small to use the phone.
Attack for a big mouth,
A knife in my back.
Oh dear drunk mum,
Go to the doctors' your son,
Is not well,
Then you felt hell.
