That rusty old piano sits all alone in its corner.

All it needs is some love to play
its battered up keys.

Full of sharps and flats,
blacks and whites,

hardly touched.
It wants to hold your hand

When you touch it
it feels happy inside.

Its emotions come out as sounds.
Imagine all the people,

giving it some life,
but not peace.

It wants to be loved,
just like everyone else.

It needs to be played, felt, but especially noticed by someone.
The piano is lonely.

It needs someone to love, and someone to love it.
It sits in the corner all alone, full of dust.

All it needs is some attention.
So I give it care,

and it loves me most.
My favorite, old piano is happy again

as it plays with joy and delight.
That rusty old piano

‘aint so rusty anymore.