On this piano, I shall play the Parting Mass
to and for the gayest heart of me lass,
to haunt the hallways and the human heart.
Don't know why me and my lass must part.
I don't play here for fame, dames or sales.
The broken bard is only here to tell his tale.
My fingers linger to sing, binge drink and sink
notes, while linking my all to you, all I'll think.
As the masses part, I play the Parting Mass.
I don't know if this parting will ever pass.
Whether you travel first or second class,
stay with me and sing the Parting Mass.
My muse is out of my life and my music.
I'm a shell, don't apologize; won't make you sick.
A shell of my former self is playing tragic tunes
for the well-travelled man who comes in at noon
and catches the train to Amsterdam at 12 past twelve.
My voice is trembling, sorry, I can't help myself.
I can't see, blinded by grief, tears fall on the keys.
Is my problem major or minor scale? Tell me please!
My mind is my haven and my crutch
as my memories are in my clutch.
I break while other say to hit the gas.
Stay with me and sing the Parting Mass.
As white your soul is, as black the keys are.
The sky shows me the most important star.
No, not Polaris will guide me on my way
but you are, to get me though the darkest days
and brightest nights
with station lights.
Sir, there is no train to catch
as there is no pain to match.
Except for going to an empty home.
That is why I will always roam
here but is my small request crass?
Stay with me to sing the Parting Mass.
