The speaker feels trapped in a life that never changes, and the image of a broken record captures it neatly. A scratched record skips and replays the same bit of sound, and the poem copies that effect by repeating words in threes: "happens and happens and happens," "hours and hours and hours." Reading it, you can almost hear the needle jumping.
The feeling is boredom mixed with quiet despair. The speaker says "I see no way out," and the word "alas" gives that admission a weary, slightly dramatic sigh. The problem isn't only personal, either. Everyone nearby seems stuck too, because the whole town is the broken record.
The ending is the bleakest part. Even if the speaker escapes, the town will keep skipping without them. Leaving may bring freedom, but the poem suggests it won't fix the place itself. The mood is flat, restless, and resigned, with a small hint that escape is still the plan.