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and now for something completely ad hoc

the piano has been drinking, my necktie is asleep
and the combo went back to new york, the jukebox has to take a leak
and the carpet needs a haircut, and the spotlight looks like a prison break
and the telephone’s out of cigarettes, and the balcony is on the make
and the piano has been drinking, the piano has been drinking...

and the menus are all freezing, and the light man’s blind in one eye
and he can’t see out of the other
and the piano-tuner’s got a hearing aid, and he showed up with his mother
and the piano has been drinking, the piano has been drinking

as the bouncer is a sumo wrestler cream-puff casper milktoast
and the owner is a mental midget with the i.q. of a fence post
’cause the piano has been drinking, the piano has been drinking...

and you can’t find your waitress with a geiger counter
and she hates you and your friends and you just can’t get served without her
and the box-office is drooling, and the bar stools are on fire
and the newspapers were fooling, and the ash-trays have retired
’cause the piano has been drinking, the piano has been drinking

the piano has been drinking, not me, not me, not me, not me, not me...

the piano has been drinking (not me), the heart of the saturday night, tom waits

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