When kids my age turn to anything but rap
The adults in our life tend to worry
"What are you planning, what kind of trap?"
They don't understand I'm just listening.

The reverse is the same, the kids freak too
They don't understand the appeal
The drive, the high that comes from this tune
The way it can make a person feel.

"How can you listen to a piano man"
"One who sings, doesn't yell or rap?"
It's simple, I swear, I'm an honest fan
Of music with rhythm that doesn't need a map!

My head nods up and down with the beat
My body sways with the artists words
And then the music tends to take over my feet
TAP...TAP... Even here the notes can be heard.

When his fingers fly across those sharp keys
Or when they just dance on the keys lightly
The joy that moves me could fill the seas!
The peace that washes over guides me.

Lame, I know, to feel such emotion from music
But its the truth in the lyrics that holds the key
The love and loss that it speaks of, so therapeutic
The sadness in their voice so beautiful to me.

A piano man can tell his simple story
Without expecting to teach a single soul
His words don't stab and they're never boring
But their meaning is so deep it takes a certain toll.

The hands and the movements are aged, it's true
But they tell a story that's singular, all their own
They show me the struggles the piano mans been through
They reinstate what his voice and lyrics have already made known.

And finally, the eyes, what to express about them
Their beauty, sadness, and truth all consuming
In the piano mans eyes is where the real magic begins
Their presence ever daunting, oh so ever looming.

I can say no more to defend my case
And I wish not to disgrace other artists
But please just listen once, see his face
Think not of cussing, rap, or power; just listen...