| Grizabella intrudes once more, wanting to rejoin her
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| family and be a part of the celebration. |
| The cats again
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| scorn her. |
| She is left to contemplate her Memory of the time before she left the tribe, when she was once
|
| young, beautiful and happy.
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| GRIZABELLA:
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| You see the border of her coat is torn and stained with sand
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| And you see the corner of her eye twist like a crooked pin
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| Silence — not a sound from the pavement
|
| Has the moon lost her memory
|
| She is smiling alone
|
| In the lamplight the withered leaves collect at my feet
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| And the wind begins to moan
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| Every street lamp seems to beat a fatalistic warning
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| Someone mutters and the streetlamp gutters
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| And soon it will be morning
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| Memory — all alone in the moonlight
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| I can smile at the old days
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| I was beautiful then
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| I remember the time I knew what happiness was
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| Let the memory live again
|
| She yearns to be accepted, and she stretches out her hand
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| behind her, hoping another cat will touch her. |
| It doesn’t happen.
|
| She slinks off into the night.
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| ACT II |