As you sit here before me sobbing and shaking
I worry about your tears getting my mixer wet.
I want to hear your pain through the crackle of vinyl,
I just don't know what chord to write it in yet.
Too many songs about heartbreak are saccharine and vain,
I want to hear the fabric of your love ripped apart.
A Phil Spector wall of sound playing your deepest pain,
I want to mic up the sound of your breaking heart.
I'm going to make an album of all your lovely hurt,
I want to play your fret-less, useless heart like Flea.
I want to compress your crying and pleading,
Into a 4/4 drum pattern that rises to sorrowful cacophony.
You walked out on me and I had no power to change your mind,
I wanted to tear the soul from your emotionless chest.
Now I've got this recording of the pain he caused you,
I'll let Itunes and the general public do the rest.