Piano Man

The past two weeks, I’ve been hypnotized by the diss tracks of the lad who wrote Stan

On Tuesday, it was time for a change; to move from slim shady to The Piano Man

After being blown away by rappers’ beef’s razzmatazz, 

I was about to dive into soul-piercing blues & jazz

In this alternate journey, I was to join three Gen-Z tech-slaves at 8.oh.Five

But for these dolts arriving on time is a monstrous crime

Their running late would usually get me all riled

but I already had something bigger on my mind

While on my way to the venue of live performance 

I got a message about my former school that left me in distress

I snapped out of it as I got outta Metro and climbed up the stairs

Instead of waiting for the trio, I decided to walk the distance

I met them morons at the venue’s threshold with customary hugs

All three were out to impress in birthday Ts, pretty dresses & blue-green tresses

The usual three stooges were now fab four

Even I was curious to find out what was in store

There was still a long time before Krishna Vinod hit the floor

In those 1.oh.1 minutes, I bored the fuck outta number four

Once the gig began, I got so into it that I must have looked stoned

Eventually, like all good things, the fiesta ended, and the place fell cold

The night’s next chapter was about to unfold 

with NitWit, Narci & Nazi

Freakily two of them are yet to get rid of their virginity

Narci, the wonder-kid, is a pain in the ass but also absolu amour

Nazi is a nice soul and also an early onset Alzheimer’s bimbo

NitWit is stupid & broke but under his boobs his heart’s precious than Louis Vuitton

And I, the boring troll, am a baptized lifelong asshole

Trains were dead for the night, so we cabbed to Hudson Lane

Instead of settling into our beds, we settled our asses at Cake Bake Shake

Chatting away as we gulped dowm crepes & pan cakes

People my age live for the month-end when we get paid

But I live for days like these coz they feel more magical than getting laid

I resumed my banter with the Chennai chic who doesn’t know Hindi 

I threatened to wrap her in a shipping bag & sell her to the Saudis

After I get her lit up on L.I.I.Teas

Even better, carve a permanent Swastik tattoo across her chin

And FedEx her to Munich & Tel Aviv 

If she gets lynched after getting mistaken for an anti-semitic,

the world will be better off with one less virgin

Then I will move on to my plan to get rid of NitWit

By tying him naked to a tree after getting him wasted on Tonic & Gin
oh you, Narci, don’t even think you are escaping my evil

On second thoughts, to you, your life's already been a prick

At nineteen you've felt a grand total of one boy's joystick

Ha!

When the clock hit three, we got up from our seats

Rolled back to our homes to be tucked under the sheets

If it's written in the pages of the destiny

There will be a repeat of this bonhomie 

If not, this night will live on etched in our memories

Well, may be not so much for the girl with Alzheimer's disease

Day after, Pragsy sent me two pictures

For once, reflexively I didn’t show the phone-screen my middle finger

Something about those selfies wasn’t frivolous

They stirred me, they were a little visceral

People ask me why I write

Because it's beautiful as ice raining from the skies

The moment I got done with this poem’s rhymes

Some of the moments of last night got immortalized

When you turds re-visit & read these lines years later, the dead moments will come alive

Whatever troubles we have in our lives

If we have someone to love, our heart knows everything’s gonna be alright

So, go on, hop on life’s car and make the most of the ephemeral ride