The Record Kept Playing

(ahhhh) Rain on the window of the old record store

Flipping through the sleeves upon the wooden floor

Found a dusty sleeve from nineteen-fifty-nine

A handwritten note fell out on the line It said: "Play this

when you think you're finished,

son" (hummmmm)

I took the heavy wax

and placed it on the plate

The needle hit the groove

and sealed a forgotten fate

That was my granddad's voice,

clear as a summer day

Singing to the boy

who almost walked away

And the record kept playing

through the quiet and the dark

Spitting out a melody that left a burning spark

Yeah, the record kept playing,

telling me to stand

Holding fifty years of music right inside my hand (ooh,

yeah) I spent the winter learning every single line

Tuning up my wood and chrome,

making it align

Tonight the stage is glowing,

the crowd is leaning in

I'm singing out his words,

letting our song begin

And the record kept playing

through the quiet and the dark

Spitting out a melody that left a burning spark

Yeah, the record kept playing,

telling me to stand

Holding fifty years of music right inside my hand

We're spinning in the groove

(spinning round) Two voices in the air with nothing left to prove (humm)