Broken Record
Farse
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They slip, crackle, vinyl, mirrows me,
and this broken record glass,
just look at us now,
the gramaphone replacing,
the heart sleeves used to have,
they looks at us stall,
out greatest hits edition,
spins back and forth,
school boys lines written,
its the songs that end,
and its the rules we bend,
stylus please remain my friend.
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The deja vu box set,
one song, one line, one girl, just no end,
beneath the bubble wrap,
a sharp edged tool, perfect for my back,
started to break down again,
started to leave doubt again,
repeat to fade end.