Dear Uncle sold her into
Into the purest kind of slavery
Hood-eyed little middlemen

Profited from damaged goods along the way
Good angels brought her back to a last Nepal summer
Debased and hollow-faced, a smile might become her

Now she's cozied up, cozied up and comforted
In the warm flush of September
Gone before winter

Wondering as to might-have-beens
Somebody's daughter in sanctuary, waiting


Seen through softer cage of kindness
Far and further still away
From time-warp Victorian zoos

Where staring ice cream gameboys play
Big paws, worn claws and swishing tails
More damaged goods in the market sales

Too proud for anger
Too late for patricide indignity
Gone before winter

Purring might-have-beens
Somebody's kitten in sanctuary, waiting


Somebody near you in sanctuary, waiting