Keep an eye on the crowd, let everything explode
Ground your soul, tap your head atop each and every key
Shut your eyes right now, oh the mesmerising sense of glee going on all round
To a never before visited degree
Perfectly sounded out
Close the park to all and sundry
Nimble-fingered come Friday night through Sunday morning
Curls swaying, playing that Steinway piano oh so eagerly
Caught up in the wind of the smoke-machine
Fun, Drink, then breath again
Five-thousand flailing arms
These people, they never need to think, musically disarmed to the last
Beethoven’s ancestor perhaps, the very last man with keyboard charm

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