I knead the dark in stainless bowls
Yeast wakes slow on steel console
The platform hums a low refrain
No passengers just midnight rain
Heat rises from the iron door
Shadows stretch across the floor
A train sighs past a ghost of steel
We wait for crust we wait to heal
Flour on the tracks we bake the night
Crust turns gold in sodium light
No sirens call no crowds to please
Just dough and dark and quiet keys
Sugar crystals catch the gleam
Of flickering bulbs in a broken dream
The baker's hands both rough and sure
Shape the loaves a quiet cure
Steam climbs up the tiled wall
Answers rise to every call
The express roars a blurred red line
We guard the rise we mark the time
Flour on the tracks we bake the night
Crust turns gold in sodium light
No sirens call no crowds to please
Just dough and dark and quiet keys
Salted crust on cooling racks
The platform map in paperbacks
A lone commuter checks his watch
We load the trays no need to botch
Let the city sleep above
We feed the dark with risen love
Each loaf a prayer each crumb a psalm
Until the morning brings the calm
Flour on the tracks we bake the night
Crust turns gold in sodium light
No sirens call no crowds to please
Just dough and dark and quiet keys
First light paints the tunnels pale
The oven's song begins to fail
We pack the bread in waxed paper sleeves
Another night another batch we leave
Flour on the tracks we bake the night
Crust turns gold in sodium light
No sirens call no crowds to please
Just dough and dark and quiet keys
Flour on the tracks we fade
Warmth remains in crust we made
