There’s an old piano in my living room, untouched for years, begging to bloom.
But the keys are dusty and the wood is cracked, the ebony’s pale and ivory’s black.
That old piano has seen better days, played chopsticks to Marvin Gaye,
And all that piano wants to do is sing, to strike a chord with some young thing, but
Some say that piano is out of tune, I like to think that it was just singing the blues.
That old piano still has a dream, similar to Martin Luther King,
To be held as equal in its own regard, playing the piano shouldn’t be this hard.
And there’s this new guitar with a bright new sound, making people dance and gather around,
And that old piano’s so desolate, untouched for years uninhabited.
Some say that piano is out of tune, I like to think that it was just singing the blues.
Now it’s time for this piano to leave, as the old man hides his tears on his sleeves,
He said, “Where did the years go?” as the emptiness creeps up from below,
And all he has is the memory of, that old piano he forgot he loved,
And in the back of his head he can hear the song, of that old piano that didn’t belong.
Some say that piano is out of tune, I like to think that it was just singing the blues.
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