Maybe I'll Be the Piano Man

Maybe I'll Be the Piano Man                          October 14, 2004

Another poem, another rhyme, 

Yet, I know that I'll never make a dime. 

Music, you know, is where it's at, 

But my trombone career, it went scat. 

I wish I were now a piano man, 

Where I could create many a fan. 

All I want is to be important, 

But instead, I'm doomed to be a social runt. 

Music is what flows through my soul, 

Yet, I write lyrics that I could mix in a bowl, 

But I never learned to play the piano, 

So I guess my dreams will be relegated to the down low. 

I'm a writer. Things could be worse. 

I could be totally devoid of everything, even verse, 

Yet, I dream of the time where I can fly, 

Hoping maybe it'll mesh together before I die. 

Maybe some day I'll be a piano man, 

And then I'll be rich, get a George Hamilton tan, 

And I can help my mama and my papa with their bills, 

All while I'd be getting my thrills. 

Yes, I wish I could be a piano man, 

And appeal to the fans like no one can. 

I will dream of the time when I can fly, 

So maybe it'll mesh together before I die.