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
