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| Pete Atkin sings
Thirty Year Man by Clive James and Pete Atkin, [Much more at www.peteatkin.com] |
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| LYRIC: | |||||
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Nobody here yet From the spotlight that will ring her not a glimmer Not a finger on its squeaky dimmer I play piano in a jazz quartet That works here late with a young girl singer And along from the darkened and empty tables By the covered-up drums and the microphone cables At the end of the room the piano glistens Like the rail at the end of the nave Thirty years in the racket A brindled crew-cut and a silk-lined jacket And it isn't my hands that fill this place It's a kid's voice still reaching into space It's her they're driving down to hear And it's my bent-over back she's standing near Nobody talks yet From the glasses that will touch soon not a tinkle Not a paper napkin shows a wrinkle I play piano in a jazz quartet That backs a winner while the big notes crinkle And along from the darkened and empty tables By the covered-up drums and the microphone cables At the end of the room the piano glistens Like the rail at the end of the nave And I play a few things while no-one listens Thirty years in the racket A brindled crew-cut and a silk-lined jacket And it isn't my name that brings them in It's a little girl just starting to begin It's her they're piling in to see And I'd kill that kid if she wasn't killing me Nobody moves yet From the tables near the bandstand not a rustle Not a loudmouth even moves a muscle I play piano in a jazz quartet That backs a giver while the takers hustle And along from the darkened and empty tables By the covered-up drums and the microphone cables At the end of the room the piano glistens Like bones at the end of a cave And I play a few things while no-one listens For an hour alone spells freedom to the slave | |||||
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