Ask the man at the piano
At the piano, at the piano,
To strike a hammer blow,
Hammer blow, hammer blow.
To hit to his heart's content,
Heart's content, right or wrong.
I know his fingers aren't wooden,
But, when he breaks them,
We'll replace them...
The main thing is that he plays
Like a slot machine,
To the end, non-stop...
Perhaps your heart will hear
A bit of all this racket
And then you'll understand
That the piano plays for you.
I have to hunt as I can
The silent ghost.
If the fellow makes noise,
It's because I'm screaming at him
To hit like a deaf man.
It will never sound more false
Than the song with words
That spoke of our love...
Ask the man at the piano
At the piano, at the piano,
To strike a hammer blow,
Hammer blow, hammer blow.
To smash my brain,
My love into pieces.
Even if he only has one finger left,
He'll bang with his arms
After all, I don't give a damn:
The main thing is that he plays,
Like a slot machine.
Until the end, to the end...
Ask the man at the piano
At the piano, at the piano...
...at the piano...