It’s nine o’clock on a Saturday The unholy thing shambles in He’s too big for the chair sitting next to me And he makes an unbearable din

Sing us a song, you’re the piano man Your skin is a wooden facade You’ve brass pedals for hands And your hair’s copper strands Give unbearable insult to god

21

A small tinkling echoes through the door. The piano man rises. “The final fight begins,” he growls. “The tambourine man has arrived.”

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