i treat you like an old favorite record

i turned on the radio
and heard a poppy song
it was easy for it to interest me
and easier for me to end up switching the station

my friend brought me to an opera
i could still hear the perfection flowing
and shivers growing inside me
like mushrooms on humid lands

but you are an old loved record
that never leaves the turntable
with scratches carved into you
after spins for the lonely soul