Mute in the Back Pocket

Lyrics

I found it in the pocket of his coat,
A little rubber mute, a worn-down note.
He hasn't played in years, so people say,
But he kept it close, in case of a better day.
The coat hangs by the door, the rain comes down,
The last bus sighs across the sleeping town.

Keep the mute in the back pocket,
For the night the horn comes home.
Keep a little hush in the back pocket,
For the song you play alone.
Not every love gets loud,
Not every dream a crowd,
Some just wait, soft and low,
In the pocket, in the glow.

He used to play the late set at the Blue,
Soft as breath on a window, soft as dew.
Then the clubs closed down, one by one,
And he put the trumpet away, said, that's done.
But I hear him in the kitchen, humming sweet,
A phrase that wanders in on quiet feet.

Keep the mute in the back pocket,
For the night the horn comes home.
Keep a little hush in the back pocket,
For the song you play alone.
Not every love gets loud,
Not every dream a crowd,
Some just wait, soft and low,
In the pocket, in the glow.

I won't ask him to play for me,
I'll leave the case beside his chair.
Some doors you open with a key,
Some with a little patience, and the air.

Tonight the rain is soft against the pane,
And down the hall I hear a note again.
Thin and careful, like a first hello,
A muted trumpet, breathing, sweet and slow.
I stand there in the doorway, holding still,
Some songs come back when you let them, and you will.

Keep the mute in the back pocket,
For the night the horn comes home.
Keep a little hush in the back pocket,
For the song you play alone.
Not every love gets loud,
Not every dream a crowd,
But this one found its way,
Out of the pocket, into day.

Soft and low, soft and low,
The horn has come home.