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We're the piano movers.
Steinway, Pleyel and Gaveau pianos
The clinking of cheap tips
We know the drill.
As for the rest, that's none of our business.
We're not artists for nothing.
When music has broken your back
There's no Charleston that holds up.
To grab us by the guts
You have to get up early
To say that there are types
Who on this wretched contraption
They manage to make all the fools believe it.
Life is like playing the piano
They make a whole show out of love.
If you listen to them, honestly, that's all there is to it.
What would be left for the movers?
They have tons of it on their minds
All that would be left for us to do is blacken ourselves on the zinc
But here again, you have to put up with the whole mess.
There's always a fool among us
To slip in your tips
To silence them all
There really is only one way
Send them to do
A quick trip to the coalfield
On the piano, the massacre of reality
They would be able to touch the mashed potatoes.
We're the piano movers.
Steinway, Pleyel and Gaveau pianos
The clinking of cheap tips
We know the drill.
Ultimately, what's the point of discussing this?
As someone else said, to each their own profession
Shooting the pianist isn't our job
We're shooting at the piano
We're shooting at the piano
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