The piano is toasting bread with its notes today.
Butter spreads and tears shed as onion spices the mix.
Bob once called you Mother, but now he's a DAD.
Maybe the organ needs tuning, they said.
Kissing the pieces, the pieces I play.
Come let us music worries away.
The raindrops are candy stuck in little half rests.
There isn't a whole note in my mercyfest.
Drink all the beats now and read the next page.
Maybe the organ needs tuning, they say.
Kissing the pieces, the pieces I play
Kissing the pieces of me yesterday
Watch as the shards dance with my holiday
Come let us music all worries away.