Droopy Eyed Format Decide

Those crisp words and images
Song lyrics and musical melodies
Sit in stasis awaiting your return
To be pulled across the head and read
Converting the analog to something for senses to interpret

That real life that was recorded
Upon the new fangled magnetic type tape
Was surely worth preserving
At least in some kind of entertaining state

Now twenty years on
And everything has started to bleed a bit
A transfer of force from one loop upon the reel to the next
Until an echo is heard before every word
And even that fading as the counter ticks its way around

A pile of memories mouldering in magnetic disarray
Awaiting  the return of a forgotten format to play
Should we tell them they'll be waiting for a long time?
Since all the machines they fit into have been recycled away
To become the next great idea
The new shiny to preserve for posterity
The first time little Tommy shits in the potty

At least until that next new way
In turn has to sidestep to make way
Spinning a glass record 78 upon a cast plate
Plattering along driven by wound spring
Touched by a bamboo needle
With no nerves to feel it
Just grooves to ride upon
Some good vibrations
In some new old groove