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Listen to the sounds of her broken heart |
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Flowing from the transistor radio |
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This little device fits the palm of her hand |
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Built to take anywhere she wants to go |
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She searches for signal with a swift flick of the dial |
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Living in an age of technological advances |
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Is this little simple pleasure that always makes he smile |
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And now it's made me smile... |
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Seems like she only gets am turning out these dated songs |
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But Carly Simon's always been a guilty pleasure |
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So I start to hum along |
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And for a second I start to feel ashamed |
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I remember verses one and two of |
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"You're so vain" I look around to see if anybody's watching |
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And then start to laugh from the thought |
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You could write it off as nostalgia, outdated, kitchy cool novelty |
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It's not the same |
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Can't you hear that tone that's pissed off and alone that aims square for |
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The jugular vein? I really love these moments that are quirky and absurd |
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As I sit here watching her mouthing all the words |
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Within the range of radio frequencies |
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A song is played that's meant for you and me |
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Listen to the sounds of her broken heart flowing from the transistor radio |
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Listen to the sounds of the transistor radio |
