It rained
It rained down on me
– and it wouldn’t stop!
The torrent of vicious blows just wouldn’t stop
They beat me
They beat me
They beat me
They wouldn’t stop
I was a boy…I was a child
Why wouldn’t they stop?
Mother!
Father!
Why have you abandoned me?
This is not what it says
This is not a home
This is my nightmare.
©Joe Wilson – Just a boy…2014
Life could be harsh in orphanages in the nineteen-fifties.
I’m ever grateful that I only heard of this and didn't experience it myself.
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 4:17 AM UTC
It rained
It rained down on me
– and it wouldn’t stop!
The torrent of vicious blows just wouldn’t stop
They beat me
They beat me
They beat me
They wouldn’t stop
I was a boy…I was a child
Why wouldn’t they stop?
Mother!
Father!
Why have you abandoned me?
This is not what it says
This is not a home
This is my nightmare.
©Joe Wilson – Just a boy…2014
Life could be harsh in orphanages in the nineteen-fifties.
I’m ever grateful that I only heard of this and didn't experience it myself.
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