El Pianista

This is the story of a Saturday
Doesn’t matter which month
And a man sitting at the piano
Doesn’t matter which old café

He takes the glass and his hands shake
Stinking of smoke and sweat
And he clings to his lifeboat
Returning to his eternal song

Oh, lararararara, oh, lararararara ah-ah-ah

Play again, old loser
You make me feel alright
The night is so sad that your song
Tastes like defeat and honey

Every time the mirror on the wall
Returns his skin younger
His eyes light up and his childhood
Comes to play alongside him

But there are always drunks
With drool reminding him who he was
The youngest master at the piano
Defeated by a woman

Oh, lararalarara, lararalarara

She never wanted to take root
That could clip her wings
And trapped in the cage, life slipped away
And she wanted to test her strength

She doesn’t let him take the wrong steps
Though she never wishes him harm
But sometimes with fury he hits the piano
And some have seen him cry

Oh lararalarara

Play again
Old loser
You make me feel alright
The night is so sad that your song
Tastes like defeat and honey

The microphone smells like beer
And the heat was palpable
Dark loners looking for a partner
Rushing through another Saturday

There’s a man clinging to the piano
Emotion soaked in alcohol
And a voice says: You look tired
And the sun hasn’t even come up

Larararalararara

Play again, old loser
You make me feel alright
The night is so sad that your song
Tastes like defeat and honey