🎶A Vinyl Lament🎶

🎶In dusty rooms where records spun,
A needle dropped, the magic begun.
Grooves would whisper, hiss, then sing.
A crackle born from everything.

🎶"Hit it!" they'd shout, with rhythmic pride,
As DJs let the vinyl glide.
"Go on, hit it with a needle," they'd say,
And music bloomed in analogue play.

🎶But now the youth, with earbuds tight,
Stream songs in seconds, day and night.
No sleeves to slide, no turntable grace,
Just swipes and taps in cyberspace.

🎶They’ll never know that sacred sound,
Of needle meeting wax profound.
Of album art, of liner notes,
Of mixtapes made with heartfelt quotes.

🎶They’ll ask, confused, “A needle? Why?”
And blink beneath their wireless sky.
Not knowing that to “hit it” meant
A ritual, rich and reverent.

🎶So let us spin this tale once more,
Of needle drops and vinyl lore.
For though the tech may change its face,
The soul of sound still holds its place.