wipe the dead skin from these keysnso I can start this one off cleannlet me introduce the scenenact 1 scene 1 a baby grand with broken stringsnenter stage left a drifter lost and foragingnand in his hand a notebook filled up with his out-of-tune musingsnhe turns a page and he plays and sings this songnnfive billion suffering while i sleep undergroundnalways en route to the next goodbyena mother slaps her child but the kid don't make a soundnand to my surprise neither do innso i'll just cut out my tongue and rip out my lungsn'cause they're useless and atrophiednand i'll fly them like kites applauding their sacrificenoh yes it'll be one great afternoonnhell yes it'll be one great afternoonnwhen these burdens fly away like red balloonsnnhave i gone insanendreaming of hijacking this trainntears stream as i acceleratento speeds where time willingly dilatesnand i'll watch this world die through these windowsnit's blurring but I still see people who could use my helpnso I reach outnbut i'm moving too fastnso I cry loudni can't hold my graspnnwith no home my only keys are these yellowed ivoriesnand i'll ask them rhetoricallynis this all that my hands can do? n