soul

Out of the trumpet comes no music
Out of his trumpet comes his soul

He is unemployed he
lives to play
Plays to live
He plays to pay the light bill
When times are slow
And the bulbs don’t glow
He fumbles around in the dark
crawls into the corner
holding his heart
He plays his soul

His wife left
She said she needed a lifestyle
He was not providing
It wasn’t like he wasn’t trying
He never cheated
He wasn’t lying
Yet his loneliness
Is striving
His relationships
were dying
So as she walked out
He crawled to the corner of his apartment
Holding his heart
And out of the trumpet came no music
Out of his trumpet leaked his soul

A loud knock at the door
He sees through the peep hole
His land lord
Get your stuff and go
Leave before the clock slaps 12
But were do I go ?
Land lord tells him go to hell
And take that trumpet with you
We are all tired of the noise
And so he crawls to the edge of the bus stop
Holding hi heart
Out of the trumpet comes no alleged noise
Out of the trumpet comes no music
For all to hear
From his trumpet he presents his soul

when it rains
He shelters his heart in his jacket
Bundled up like his child
Yet the trumpet begins to rust

Always at the bus stop
Never on the bus
He waits
He waits for his ride home
And for now, he holds his rusty instrement
It may sound like just an old trumpet
But from his rusty heart pours is soul.