home is where the record player is.

Live music is my home,
It’s where I put my feet up when the days are too long.
Where the day starts with an introduction,
And finishes off with a cover song.

Where you roll yourself up in melodies,
And marvel at the sofas concentration.
There only exists posters and flyers in frames
To form beautiful homemade decoration.

You can know your way round the words,
With your eyes tight shut and you hands on your face.
Able to explore the walls and the windows,
Every note in its rightful place.


this isnt quite finished but i still wanted to know how it came across until i find a good ending.