(a quick note: okay. i can't take it anymore. i just have to let everyone know: this is NOT about music or an actual piano player. this is a metaphor about a relationship where things have been left unsaid. not music. lol. i was sick of people being confused...okay, continue. :D)

we tip-toe around shattered glass
floating around it in our pink tutu's
with a wary smile and a squint
you look for the glass-blower
and fall upon the prism shards
i'm the piano player;
the mood-setter,
the quiet, invisible lover
who tugs your ear with my teeth
all you can do is disappear
until i'm quiet again
and you come out of thin air

maybe when you turned your head
i pushed you in
but my skin is so dirty and bloody
you were far too clean for me

i found a beautiful cotton cloth
that travels across me so kindly
pulls the shrapnel from my wounds;
bandages the cuts
and softly smoothes me out again
he was dirty and bloody like me
but he wanted me to be clean
he's off elsewhere, in his pink tutu
cause he doesn't think he'll ever change
but still, he doesn't want that fate for me
and so he always wants me so clean

i'm still left
tip-toeing around all the shattered glass
someday soon he's going to look for the glass-blower
and i think i just might push him in
i'll make him bloodier than he's ever been

till then, i'm just the mood-setter,
the quiet, invisible lover.

i'm the piano player.