I met a piano on the subway today.  He was singing a low and mournful tune.  He was obviously crazy, and the other passengers gave him a wide berth.  The sad piano sat amongst his shopping bags, alone in the corner of the subway car, and ranted and raved in the key of Cm.  It was like a musical Rorschach test.  "What do you see?" he seemed to be saying.  "A madman, or a butterfly?"  The mad piano saw me looking at him, and proceeded to deliver an improvised solo, a sonic monologue of unparalleled horror and beauty.  He told me not to call it a "solo," a term which would lend artistic credibility to his psychotic, unhinged ranting.  Instead, he told me to call it "a rambling monologue for a depressed, subway-riding piano with Tourette's."  I asked him if he wanted anything to eat, and he pulled a knife on me and threatened my life.  "I eat the sky, and dine amongst the birds of paradise," he said, with a menacing sneer. 

I decided against assisting him directly. 

We exchanged meaningful eye contact, the crazy piano and me, and he knew that I took his threats and unhinged musical ramblings seriously.  I made notation of the basic chord structure of the horrific sonic diatribe, making sure to smear the notes and obfuscate any details that might provide direction to the performer, so as to produce a more accurate rendering of the lunatic song of the sad and mournful piano on the train.

These are the results.