Vinyl

Does it feel like we only go backwards?

Gravity pulling us towards old words,

Old times, old scenes, all things that don’t belong?

The 21st century must be wrong.

I’m running on the treadmill, my vinyl

Player, away from the nineteen sixties.

Running from times that made the world feel ill,

Towards a field of clementine lilies.

But that time is now isn’t it?

We live in the past, and we cannot sit.

The future’s behind us, with records and

Vinyls. Welcome to the once stolen land.

Grab a machine that kills fascists,

Because know we shall overcome.

Timeless like vinyls, is our daily fight.

Grab that machine now, and let out a strum.