Past lives flicker in the rear-view,
neon nights we never quite drove through.
Your laughter echoes in the static,
a frequency my heart still catches.
I wear your shadow like a vinyl groove,
every spin a ghost that moves.
Time collapses when the bass hits low—
we’re back where futures used to glow.
Déjà vu in every measure,
lovers lost but stitched in tremor.
If reincarnation’s real, then vinyl’s proof:
we’ve met before, and still refuse to fade.