The piano man he plays today,
What song has master wrote,
To dance the keys in such a way,
To nurture every note.
Hear how he calls, each phrase alive,
They saunter ore' the wind
And beckon tears from every eye,
Before the verse chimes in.
But soon, his songs shall be no more,
As silence holds the grounds,
As darkness falls, as did his hands,
No longer hear his sounds.
Still in the dead of night, I'd swear,
Still how his songs are ever here.
End
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