Dear uncle sold her 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, hollow-faced, a smile might become her
Now she's cosied up, cosied 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 hate: resigned in dignity
Gone before winter
Purring might-have-beens
Somebody's kitten in sanctuary, waiting

Somebody near you in sanctuary, waiting