At nights when they stumble back to there corners of the world I
sit keeping the neon cast shadows company.
Old dust covred piano  plays to a concert of  empty stools  and
a old ghost or two.

The music fades  like a smoke ring to vanish where none will know.
As a homeless soul stumbles from the shadowsto cross the
empty street.

The glass sits half empty as I continue to play.
As beaten as a broken tail  alley cat.
We all yern for comfort  but in this life.
Often were met with a back hand.

I play as nothing will ever change.
The broken soul   so very tender and strange.

And wait for the for them to return from there corners.
To mask my troubles and fill this dark empty bar.