Look what has happened to our mix-tape-love;
we can no longer record, we've finally run out of tape.
There is nothing left to document.
Push me, play me. Pause me, rewind me.
But once the tape is full, I no longer have use.
Modern advances concur with me.
Why are you playing my tape forever on repeat, when you could have some shiny new development?
Maybe a record if you're feeling reminiscent.
But out mix-tape-love is undownloadable.
It may be outdated and it might not be efficient but it's special.
Mix tape please don't break on me in a world of iPods and radios.
My faith in you is unmemorable.
Transmit this wish because we don't want to bother with digital.
You bring meaning to my obsolete existence; don’t stop playing me.
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