Making Records
Regina Spektor Lyrics

I am braiding records into my hair
I'm intertwining vinyl records with my hair

Needles and record players
Phonograph needles and turntables

Everything's a Possible record cover
Anything could serve as a potential cover for a vinyl record

Or a possible name for a band that I will never have
Or a feasible name for a group that will never come to fruition

I will never have
I will never be part of a band

'Cause I sing my songs all by myself
Because I perform my music independently of others

All to myself
I am the sole audience for my melodic creations

From myself
This music originates solely from me

I am cute
I possess a degree of charm

But I'm not in a band
However, I am not a member of a musical group

Where's my band?
Where is the band I desire to be a part of?

Where's my band?
Where is the ensemble to which I wish to contribute?

Where's my amplifiers?
Where are the amplifiers needed to produce loud sounds?

So why don't I just sleep in the middle of this kitchen Surrounded by forks and a linoleum floor I am drunk and there's no one here to stop me From being so tired and sleeping with my mascara on
Why don't I just take a nap on this kitchen floor, with a backdrop of forks and linoleum? Few people will hinder me as I am feeling inebriated and therefore will sleep in my makeup.

In the studio They're adjusting the wires and microphones And I'm about to sing my songs And they won't be just my own And I'm glad that they'll exist But they'll make me obsolete
While inside the recording studio, technicians are managing the electrical connections and microphones, preparing to record as I am about to perform my own songs. Once recorded, these songs will no longer be solely mine, and I'm content they'll exist, yet they will make me unimportant/obsolete.

'Cause I sing it just once, and the wires, they remember it And sing it right back And they do it better than I can
The technology utilized in recording my songs recalls my single, solitary performance, and then reproduces it exactly. Moreover, it recites this better than I ever could.

Anytime, anywhere, I'm preserved I'm a jelly or a jam Jelly or a jam
In any location, at any time, my music is immortalized, akin to a fruit preserving jelly or jam.

So why don't I just sleep in the middle of this kitchen A halo of forks and a linoleum floor I am drunk and there's no one here to stop me From being so tired and being so drunk Why don't I just pee in the middle of this kitchen Into a little teacup and I won't miss a drop I am drunk and there's no one here to stop me From being so eccentric and being so lonely
Thus, why not take a nap in this kitchen space or even relieve myself in a cup? My alcohol consumption is causing me to become unusual and adding to my loneliness.

Corazón Corazón This is my Corazón
Heart Heart This is my Heart

I know that I am lucky I make shit up all the time And I start to believe it myself Just 'cause it rhymes
I am aware that I am privileged. I fabricate fictions on a regular basis, and after some time, they seem true solely because they correspond.

But I'm so inconsistent My handwriting changes every other word
However, I'm extremely irregular. I continuously change handwriting styles every second word.

So I'm braiding records into my hair Needles and record players Everything's a Possible record cover Or a possible name for a band that I will never have I will never have Never have Never have Never have
Therefore, I'm intertwining discs into my hair, and acquiring phonograph needles and turntables. Every item I encounter is a probable candidate for a record cover, or a name for an impractical band that will never come to be.

So why don't I just sleep in the middle of this kitchen A halo of forks and a linoleum floor I am drunk and there's no one here to stop me From being so drunk and being so drunk Why don't I just pee in the middle of this kitchen Into a little teacup and I won't miss a drop I am drunk and there's no one here to stop me From being so eccentric and being so lonely
Therefore, why not lay down on this kitchen's linoleum floor surrounded by forks, or even urinate into a teacup without losing a single drop? My inebriation is causing me to become excessively peculiar while compounding my sense of isolation.