wit her Hope she knows that it hurts not to be wit her Hope she knows that wit her I'm the happiest I can't make it to her piano practices When I was
practicing politics as the buisnessmen slowly get stoned yes they're sharing a drink they call loneliness but its better than drinking alone Sing us a song, you're the piano
him. Motorhead: But I got practicing and play good. FZ: He's lying. He hasn't been practicing, he doesn't do shit. Ian: Ask me you couldn't even
dress A robe fit for a prince I could clothe a continent But I can't sew a stitch I can paint my face And stand very, very still It's not very practical
and it's sweet and I knew it complete When i wore a younger man's clothes." La da de da da de da.... Sing us a song, you're the Piano Man. Sing us
??m gonna leave but Ia??ll make it worth if you ahahah.. If you come over .here and give me.... some Piano lesson, some piano lesson some piano lesson, some piano
called Piano Fighter I'm a thin ice walker, I'm a freelance writer Hold me tight, honey, hold me tighter Then let me go, Piano Fighter Someone called Piano
Hobby was an only child He couldn't see or hear or read. But heard a voice inside his head Hobby was the deaf kid. Started playing toy piano Practiced
we could never find a better friend to work with You make us feel at home it would make me so happy right now to hear Some piano being played by my oldest
in classes The best bachelor since Bruce Wayne with his Bachelors Remasterd this rap shit you hear the words coming from my lips, bastards I never crack, I got that chapstick I practiced
, that's how it was with you and I; why say good bye when we could still write. But then it took your hands. We should've practiced our goodbyes, because
a murder trial Plus I seen it everyday, but signatured in cursive style Motherfuckers be tattle tailing like they taking names So when they take a son they drive by I'll be taking aim Pressure to pian
) STOP! Come on! That was the harpsichord Nowadays most people seem to prefer The television or radio to the harpsichord But you still hear the piano
their rhymes and then practiced it Put my brain pattern on fly and I mastered it Dad played jazz when he drank, it's no accident Hands on the piano and
Signor Piangi . . . if you please . . . (REYER thumps the piano keys, then leaves the piano, and attempts to attract attention using signals. Al the height of the mayhem, the piano
happen Lost in captivity, imagine me happily clappin Big barrels, heavy ammo, man the mammal Packed in commando, rapidly practice supreno Crack my fingers on pianos