Volume

I step into a place
just for a drink where no one knows my face.
I like that they don’t see me.
That’s when I meet this man
who swears he knows what song the band is playing
on a muted T.V.
Turn the volume down.
Barkeep, one more round.
Sweetheart, take a chair.
I’m dying to know what’s in that head of hair,
cause I’m not thinking clearly.
I’m not this kind of man,
but if I weren’t true you’d be first in my hands.
Woman, can you hear me?
Turn the volume down.
Barkeep, one more round.
I’m tired of this town.
Haunted by these sounds.
In the corner sits
a player piano full of dust and nicks.
It’s gearing up to start right now.
And I can’t help but stare.
Its keys jump ‘round just like a ghost is there
playing his little heart out.