Picture this
There is a man who plays piano like it’s his job
Not like
It’s his job to make some money to feed his kids to maintain a socially acceptable home life slash cocaine habit
But like it’s his job
To remind everyone else that music is brutal and real love makes you sick
To keep people guessing when all they really really want is the whole world’s cheat sheet
To warm a room with his hands and to hand out chills to the few who deserve them.
This man plays piano like it’s his lover
Like he
Keeps his face so close to the elephant to be sure it won’t walk out on him
Like black and white bleed and he writes stories on a minor chord because the major ones
They don't end happy like he grew up thinking they would.

You can bet
His piano fingers
Grip tight to the things he needs to stay awake
For Saturday night jazz and Sunday afternoon blues
And you can tell by the way his wrists bend,
Like he’s about to break into eighty eight pieces of black and white beautiful
That he needs it.
Like he's got a girl back home with a middle C painted right in the center of her back and
You can bet
That when he loves her, he watches her real close to be sure she ain’t about to walk out on him
Oh, he is cool.
Like black turtleneck sweatshirt black baret because he's not French but hell, he’ll sure smoke like it COOL.
He's hoping hard for a cancer to eat him away because
He just has too much
And no one to play it to and
He only sees in colour on the days he speaks in greys.

He is the man who wakes up like an earthquake
And goes to sleep every once in a while.
He plays to the moon to serenade her down to his level
So he can whisper waltzes in her ears
And he pronounces “nightmare”
Like Toccata and Fugue
Mr. Piano man holds keys like they're all he needs to breathe
Plays like it makes him cry and
God Damn, I wanna love something that much.

Now, Picture this:
There is me
And you.
Standing on bridges on fire and we don't move
We need more heat
Because summertime will never be enough to just live for.
So for now
You be water. I’ll be air
And we’ll make those waves like we never knew the color blue and salt
Were something to be sad for
Or
You be that fire, just make me some of your air
And we will shine
We’ll have background symphonies
Because we shine
And damn, Baby, when we go toe to toe to toe with the angels
To sky and back
We’ll wear shades because that’s just how bright we SHINE
And Dear God, my dear God won’t know what hit him.

But beneath everything else
I'm taking chances you don't want to know a thing about
Because I am brittle
And my fingers aren't long like an elephant needs them to be.
And you have hands that make my face too small and my bed too big
Those piano hands, but you don't play
And you are walking ivory irony and
You don't believe in ghosts in quarter notes.
But you don't run away from a bad sound and
I appreciate your appetite and those greys you play when it rains
Because I know
That music is brutal
And real love Hurts. Like. Hell.
So just give me little black answers
And I won’t mind their sharp edges cause I don’t need to know you mean it
I just need it.
Because beneath everything else
There is a man who plays the piano
Like the sky’s collapsing underneath him
Like its all he needs to inhale
And there is me
And you,
And when your shine runs out, mine will remain
And I wont forget those waltzes you danced with the moon.
So play me, Mr. Piano Man
Make me your beast.
Because, pale or not, your fingers are just strong enough
To measure the ivory sliding down MY back and
God Damn, I want something to love me that much