El Hombre Del Piano

This is the story of a Saturday
No matter what month
And of a man sitting at the piano
No matter what old cafe

He takes the glass and his hands tremble
Reeking of smoke and sweat
And he clings to his raft board
Returning to his eternal song
La, la, la, la, la, la, la

Play again, old loser
You make me feel good
The night is so sad that your song
Tastes like defeat and honey

Every time the mirror on the wall
Makes his skin look younger
His eyes light up and his childhood
Comes to play with him

But there are always drunkards with drool
Who remind him of who he was
The youngest piano master
Defeated by a woman
La, ra, la, la, la, la, la, la

She always feared putting down roots
That could cut her wings
And trapped in the cage, life was slipping away
And she wanted to test her strength

She doesn't regret taking wrong steps
Although she never wishes harm
But sometimes with fury she hits the piano
And some have seen her cry
La, ra, la, la, la, la, la, la

Play again, old loser
You make me feel good
The night is so sad that your song
Tastes like defeat and honey

The microphone smells like beer
And the heat could be cut with a knife
Dark loners looking for company
Hastening through another Saturday

There's a man clinging to a piano
Emotion soaked in alcohol
And a voice that says to him: You look tired
And the Sun hasn't even risen yet
La, ra, la, la, la, la, la, la

Play again, old loser
You make me feel good
The night is so sad that your song
Tastes like defeat and honey