The old organ

The old organ,
isn't working as it was.
Now he's squeaking as a mouse,
not as bells, as it supose.

The old organ,
it makes an awful sound.
We were use to dance to it voice,
now it unsound.

And the old dusty book,
it is yellow instead of white.
The cover is falling down,
rubbed for every single sight.

The old picture,
a painting of a queen.
Now it worths nothing,
will go staright to the bin.

And now,
old everything,
old even me.
Time can never heal,
if he the cause.

The old organ,
it makes a strange sound.
But I also forgot how to play,
so it stays on the ground,
without a real use,
without makes us fun.
Oh…
The old organ.