Something was a bit different this time
We moved her out of a place she lost everything on
A place of disastrous memories, left cuddled in every corner
No "moto" to grow
Born autonomous and only to remain that way
Just living, breathing, nothing but courageous...Just...Just...

Now, I think of all she's lost.  I stare at the floor, once cleaned of filth.
The walls hold the pale of pictures hung--Only yellow surrounds them, as
a respect of nicotine that scars the surface

Now, she exists where her predecessor once lived.  Almost an exact replica! She withholding her pity and junk!