An endless stretch of blue skies, faint swirls of white mixed in between
Waves rolling below
The silhouette of a grand piano and a man playing a bittersweet melody
Cut to a mop of straggly brown hair, a chiselled face

Then he started singing
His voice low, haunting
the camera stopped behind him
those shoulder blades, protrude from his brown jacket

The camera pans out
You see

Wooden pianos
strewn across the shoreline
standing at awkward angles
as far as the eye could see

A shaft of light from the heavens
is illuminating him
there's two white trails in the sky
left in the wake of an aeroplane

The tide is coming in
But he's still playing
The guitarist kicks at the water
water splashed off the drumset

And then the waves are crashing down
he's flung off his seat
and he's struggling, struggling to get back
If only for that last chord, that last note

Cymbals fly through the air
But he's still hammering at the piano
The waves slap across his anguished face
yet they are no match for the turmoil within him

Then it died down
pianos are left upturned
on their sides
shipwrecked

A seagull perched atop
the leg of an upturned white piano
and shot against the azure blue sky
it's a lighthouse, i'd swear it is