Lyrics

A pencil on a table
A cigarette in an ashtray
LP records on the shelves
A turntable in the closet

33 – and you thought you were getting old
45 – the days keep coming, low and behold
With any luck, you might spin your way to '78
The future back then wasn’t so passé

Mirror ball on the ceiling
Roller skates by the door
Carson late in the evening
Pools of tape on the floor

33 – and you thought you’d gone out of style
45 – you’ve already walked twice down the aisle
One more skip your life plays like an old 78rpm
Everything you hear and say feels like a cliché

33 – much too early for early signs of nostalgia
45 – the diagnosis now points to dyslexia
When '87 looks an awful lot like '78
Each moment has been stolen from you
You’re blasé