A whisper

The walls aren't talls at alls, But the chains are nice and thick, Attached to big round balls, Balls of love for the very sick. It's for childers that can't curb, The scaly-voices they keep hiddens. A place for the disturbed, Where we heal the lickle kiddens. So don't listen to the whispers, Ignore the kissing licking, Think your thinking crispers, Don't belong to the sicking. Cos if you learn our secret songs, You won't be Good to us for long.