Her heart is a broken record Constantly being scratched by knives and scissors Lost in their quest to find a spot still intact
When put in the old phonograph It plays a soft melody filled with piano notes That sound like rain on a gray day
The strings of the violin echoes in the background Along with the lower tones of the cellos The solitary saxophone cries; The flutes and clarinets follow its lead, Desperately letting out their high notes of agony
Drums emerge blasting anger Encouraging the rest of the instruments to go along And when it is about to hit its ******… Another scratch – a deep crooked scratch. It takes a while before the song starts over.
It’s hard to imagine This was once a beautiful, shiny vinyl That stood up in the wooden shelf Now it is filled with dust Making company – only – to the Merlot sitting by the desk And to the ears that can hear nothing But the harmony of the broken hearted.