Blowing That Trumpet Like A Muted Machine

Down on Basin Street when the moon's hangin' low You hear a sound so sweet like the river's slow flow. A man in the shadows coat worn at the seams Blowin' that trumpet like a muted machine. No spotlight needed he don't play for fame Each note's a whisper each bend knows your name. It ain't loud it ain't clean- But it cuts through the dark like a dream unseen. He's blowin' that trumpet like a muted machine Cool as midnight slick and lean. A cry a moan a soul in between- Yeah he's blowin' that horn like a muted machine. People gather close but they don't say a word They feel every phrase like a prayer unheard. The ghosts of the city lean in to glean From a man with a horn and a haunted routine. They say he once loved then lost it in war Now he plays for the ones who don't walk through the door. Every note's heavy every silence is mean Like steam from a train slow and unseen. Still blowin' that trumpet like a muted machine In the heart of the night where the soul gets clean. No glitz no gold just a streetlight sheen- Blowin' that trumpet... like a muted machine.