spin record round

Unplug the chord
Turn off the power
Let down the needle
It is no longer comedy hour

Spinning around
Again and again
Pictures of yesterday
Slowly fade away
Barely knowing
Wanting
Wishing
You would stay

The time passes slowly
The hour hand is stuck on
3am
I must be lonely

It finally picks up
Things finally caught
Then the music ends
With a crackling halt

I would like to stay
All hours
All day
Eventually all will notice
I've gone away

We are still breathing
But we have been dead
For a while

Death to real love
Something that might last
No way moving all to fast

Too good to be true
What it seems to you
Silly me still hoping
This could pull through

But it ends tonight
No heart
Just vile
Because hey, thats whats in style
What it seems to you