Hear what is played, what is sung
In the sight of the orphans
Near to the night, so to hide
Every deviant notion
You try to leave, but become
As one horrid invention
Run to the leaf covered home
To prepare you protection

(Chorus)
The phonograph plays, part and parcel
The phonograph plays, part and parcel

Odd signatures of the kind
You missed from the last century
You start to think of the ones
Who have betrayed your memory
Put to complete disarray
While the handles are turning
What comes to you comes too late
As the needle is touching

Ever turning all our worries
And our troubles
You look over, what you see
Is innocent
And the lions come to greet us
By the hundreds
From a corner one is watching
Us being eaten

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