He was a two-bit piano player
Who called himself Rock Moninoff
He ate granola bars, was a novice sooth-sayer
And drank enormous amounts of Smirnoff
They found him one day at the bench
Where he often sat in semi-stuporous pride
Dead as a doornail with a suicide note
Lying on the stool by his side
It read; I never was a religious man
So God I won’t belittle
But why do the big keys have to be White
and the Black ones always little?
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