Source:randomthoughtsforabeautifulgirl
Sing me a love song.
Rhyme me a sad tale.
The woe of heartbroken lovers
whose tinny cries take to the air.
The needle rides the grooves.
Round in a circle, it goes.
No beginning or end.
Like a tear that refuses to fall.
A song without an end.
The melody echoes through eternity.
One jump and scratch at a time.
“Self Portrait with a Harp” (1791) (detail) by Rose-Adélaïde Ducreux (1761-1802).
Play me a song.
Don’t get me wrong.
I love your singing voice,
But the harp is my choice.
The music soothes my sad soul
From the day taking its toll.
I need the music today.
Please, sit for me and play.
Source:randomthoughtsforabeautifulgirl
Sing me a love song.
Rhyme me a sad tale.
The woe of heartbroken lovers
whose tinny cries take to the air.
The needle rides the grooves.
Round in a circle, it goes.
No beginning or end,
like a tear refusing to fall.
A song without an end.
The melody echoes through eternity.
One jump and scratch at a time.
Source:randomthoughtsforabeautifulgirl
Play me a love song.
Rhyme me a sad tale.
The woe of heartbroken lovers
whose tinny cries take to the air.
The needle rides the grooves.
Around in a circle, it goes.
No beginning or end.
Like a tear that won’t fall.
A sad song with no end
that echoes for eternity.
