The story behind this song
He takes the trash out in the rain without a word. He folds the towels while the game plays low, salts the steps before the first frost bites, learned which squeak in the floor wakes the baby. The text always lands before the plane's done taxiing: landed? It isn't fireworks. It's the porch light left on, and him reaching for the coffee cup before the ask gets made.
Nobody writes songs about who loaded the dishwasher, so somebody decided they should. For the husband whose love just shows up daily, in work clothes — the kind still burning long after the fireworks go out.
Lyrics
So I guess that leaves it up to me
You fold the towels while the game plays low
You text me "landed?" before my plane's done taxiing
The little things you think I don't know
It's the porch light left on
No roses, no parade
Just you reaching for my coffee cup
Before the ask gets made
They can keep the movie endings
This is real, and it's enough —
More than enough, this Tuesday kind of love
You salt the steps before the first frost bites
You never made a speech about devotion
You just kept showing up to hold it tight
It's the porch light left on
No roses, no parade
Just you reaching for my coffee cup
Before the ask gets made
They can keep the movie endings
This is real, and it's enough —
More than enough, this Tuesday kind of love
How two people make the long haul look this easy
And you'll just shrug and take the trash out
And that, right there, will be the answer
No roses, no parade
Just you reaching for my coffee cup
Before the ask gets made
They can keep the movie endings
This is real, and it's enough —
More than enough, this Tuesday kind of love
But honey, here's yours
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