'Piano-Forte'

It's nine PM of a Saturday,
The Thorazine crowd shuffles in.
An old crone materializes next to me,
She's bathing in tonic and gin.

"Can you play me an electric-burned memory,
I can scarce recall how it goes,
For it is sane...
Complete...
And I found it a treat...
When I had a younger girl's nose."

La... La - No! This isn't La-La land.
Go back where you came from! La-La.

Chorale:
"Scream out a song, Piano-Man!
Shriek out your song of the night,
For we all exist by your melody,
Encompassed by the power of Fright."

The man at the bar is my keeper,
He chases my nightmares for free,
His arms quick to choke,
For he *never* will croak,
But anywhere else - he'd be free.

"Bill, this place here is killing me,
For there is never a smiling face,
I'm certain I could be a normal man again,
If I could find the door to this place."

La... La - No! This isn't La-La land.
Go back where you came from! La-La.

Now Paul became a dread monger of fame,
He has no time for a life,
He be talking with Davy,
Who is covered with Gravy,
And thinks him fit for his Knife.

And the waitress has needles... Accupuncture,
And the businessmen slowly become cones,
They are painting each other with loneliness,
For it's better than existing as bones.

Chorale:

Tis a bulging mob of an evening,
And the alligator gives me a grin,
He knows his meals come on greasy quick wheels,
Borne downward on platters that spin.

(Shudder, Hiss, Whine... Scene change. The veil has fallen.)

And the piano sounds like a power mower,
And the microphone smells like a bear,
And they run from the bar with screams near and far,
While I sit all lonely and stare.

Chorale:

La... La - No! This isn't La-La land.
Go back where you came from! La-La... Lawwww...