Drainpipes

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