A poem about Gwen's experience there.
People often say, 'Only in America.'
Like it's a paradise
But all I saw was pain
And houses full a mice
I starved to feed the homeless
And earned several dirty looks
Their libaraies are nothing
But ripped up children's books
The only way I lived
Was from the help of another
They, too, were from someplace else
And both from the same mother
When I got back to Britain
I'll tell you I felt joy
I left the place where a child
Could be a fathers toy
Just some vague insite on what happened there.
now put in its proper place