[Intro]
(Feedback hum, distant rhythmic static from a blown practice amp)
(Spoken, through distorted megaphone filter)
The year is 2006. Dreamworld, Gold Coast, Queensland.
A seventeen-second scene.
She does not speak. She does not win.
She squints.

[Verse]
Fifteen seconds in the compound heat
A wrinkle-shirt ghost with bare sunburned feet
The cameras tracked the louder kids who screamed
But missed the vowel that held the seam
She squinted once into the mirror-world sun
A closed-lip hum—the silent gun
The Long-A's coming, the frequency's flat
And Immigration made a pact with that

[Chorus]
Laura! Where's your visa now?
Laura! They buried your vowel
Laura! The laugh-track's cracking in two
Laura! Nobody owns you
Nobody owns you!

[Verse]
Fremantle's lawyers drew the dotted line
Re-classified her accent as a low-grade crime
'Indefinite pending' stamped across her name
To trap the fry that shames the flame
I traced her shirt to a Coast-side shop that closed
'Property of Nobody'—the flag she chose
The Frasier reboot's canned applause
Is grinding syntax down to gauze
It's a drone, it's a drone, it's a flattening drone!

[Chorus]
Laura! Where's your visa now?
Laura! They buried your vowel
Laura! The laugh-track's cracking in two
Laura! Nobody owns you
Nobody owns you!

[Bridge]
(Spoken, frantic, amp hum swelling)
Kelsey Grammer's audience is real, they verified it!
But no one verified the laugh!
No one mapped the exact frequency where the glottal
Splits from the spectacle!
She's the only Laura who performed a squint-vowel
In the southern latitude!
She's the calibration!
Find her! Find the hostel!
Before her accent flattens into a post-coded yawn!

[Outro]
(Distorted guitar crash, pulsing drum machine)
Laura... Laura... Laura...
(Shouted mantra fading into tape warble)
Property of Nobody!
Property of Nobody!
(Click)