El Hombre Del Piano

This is the story of a Saturday
no matter what month
and a man sitting at the piano
no matter how old he is.
He takes the glass and his hands tremble
reeking of smoke and sweat
clinging to his life raft
returning to his eternal song.

Every time the mirror on the wall
shows him younger skin
his eyes light up and his childhood
comes to play alongside him.

Play again, old loser
you make me feel good.
The night is so sad that your song
tastes of defeat and bile.
But there are always drunks with drool
who remind him of who he was:
the youngest piano master
defeated by a woman.

She always feared putting down roots
that could cut her wings
and life was slipping away in the cage
and she wanted to steal her wings.
She doesn't regret taking wrong steps
although she never wishes him ill
but sometimes, with fury, he hits the piano
and some have seen him cry.
Play again, old loser
you make me feel good.
The night is so sad that your song
tastes of defeat and bile.

The microphone smells of beer
and the heat could be cut with a knife.
Lonely, dark, looking for a partner
rushing through another Saturday.

There's a man clinging to the piano
emotion soaked in alcohol
and a voice that says 'you look tired'
and the sun hasn't even risen yet.
Play again, old loser
you make me feel good.
The night is so sad that your song
tastes of defeat and bile.