At nights when they stumble back to there corners of the world I
sit keeping the neon cast shadows company.
Old dust covred piano plays to a concert of empty stools and
a old ghost or two.
The music fades like a smoke ring to vanish where none will know.
As a homeless soul stumbles from the shadowsto cross the
The glass sits half empty as I continue to play.
As beaten as a broken tail alley cat.
We all yern for comfort but in this life.
Often were met with a back hand.
I play as nothing will ever change.
The broken soul so very tender and strange.
And wait for the for them to return from there corners.
To mask my troubles and fill this dark empty bar.