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In the land with no drainpipes there's a girl |
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with a flute in her throat |
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She's only in bloom whispering |
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by the command of a ghost |
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She dares not to speak knowing tahat this would unfold |
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The lack of a voice, genuinely hers all alone |
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In the land with no drainpipes again |
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they are switching their seats |
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A new order to what has bored them enough, |
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where's the news? |
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So she, Sophie, buys herself a skeleton |
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to simply believe |
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That there once was a shape underneath |
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our infinite possibilities |
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Bring her snowstorms |
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Bring her back to the chain |
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Bring the dictator |
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who is now sleeping in vain |
