From a distant room came a lonely tune, hangs heavy in
|
The air
|
Sounds of scene where often been of depression and
|
Despair
|
People laughing and joking, drinking and smoking, they
|
Are not aware
|
Of the guy or his song as the piano plays on, they
|
Don't really care
|
|
He's just paid to please them, he's a clown without a
|
Face
|
A sound to fill their silence, a soul that leaves no
|
Trace
|
Every happy song is drowned in, drowned in sorrow
|
Yet no one sees the tears in his eyes
|
His dreams are gone, no special song, no tomorrow
|
No chorus as his spirit slowly dies
|
In the hazy gloom of this living tomb, a stripper earns
|
Her pay
|
To lusty cheers and the drunken leers, the piano fades
|
|
Away
|
As she sheds her clothes in a vulgar pose, she strips
|
Him of all pride
|
Yet he plays on such a desperate song, feels a savage
|
Changing tide
|
|
Won't someone help me?
|
I just want to play my song
|
If only you would only listen
|
I'd be so happy if you all would sing along
|
I'd have the things that I've been missing
|
|
But very soon came the final tune, no worry turned to
|
Song
|
Just an empty stool and a stagehand's call, his
|
Weakness was too strong
|
So twisted and high while starting to fly, he saw the
|
Changing tide
|
And he followed it's will, until all was still, the
|
Piano player died
|
|
-----------------
|
Piano Player
|
| Caravan |