Laptop crammed with megabyte tunes
So many in one space I don't know what to do
Do I squeeze them in a ipod or make ringtones for a phone?
But these songs that make up my internal memory mean nothing over time
They don't touch me with ancient warping or age like fine red wine.
I can't describe a history of connection with FLAC files in a folder
Nor can I recall places, people, why I couldn't be without them as the lines on my face grew older.
So call me decrepit, curmudgeonly or just mad
But I'll keep my musical memories in reality like I have
Friday, 15 April 2011
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