I call this piece “Ode to my CA Solaris OG”
With all my items considered on the chopping block once again
Reminds me of my my little gold-plated friend
So small and despised by the most technical critics
There is a vivid and magical acoustics change hiding within its image
It does more than play almost any track so gracefully
Almost to the point where I imagine myself residing in a time machine
How much it punishes me for re-evaluating it’s monetary value
Comes an omen of painful sonic regret
Flowing as typhoon-or-monsoon-scaled deluge
No other set will bring back its magic
Even reminding me that this replacement will replay unwanted static
Such a fickle type of audio equipment
It’s real value lies entrenched in decades of auditory sentiment
Must I go on paving a longer path into my soul
It’s apparently also a thresher, as I must reap what I sow
It goes back into its leather case to sleep
While I reiterate myself that it must continue to play for me
And stop this legacy that makes me weep