A machine from a bygone age
Sat in the corner of the room
But it was not passed its prime
When it played for you
Vinyl turned, quality played
A pure sound filled the air
Was there ever a better serenade
To lift your heart.
Poetry
A machine from a bygone age
Sat in the corner of the room
But it was not passed its prime
When it played for you
Vinyl turned, quality played
A pure sound filled the air
Was there ever a better serenade
To lift your heart.