Clock hits three and the grill is cold
Stories told while the dough gets old
Slinging hash in a grease-pit haze
Counting down through the midnight maze
Humming low where the gravel glows
That is how the night baker goes
Gold in the pan and a heavy beat
Turning the salt into something sweet
Old man Joe wants his coffee black
Once he leaves he ain't coming back
I wipe the counter with a rag of gray
Waiting for the break of a rainy day
Humming low where the gravel glows
That is how the night baker goes
Gold in the pan and a heavy beat
Turning the salt into something sweet
Flour floating like a winter haze
Lost inside of a baking daze
Steel on stone and the oven heat
Rhythmic sound of the city street
Humming low where the gravel glows
That is how the night baker goes
Gold in the pan and a heavy beat
Turning the salt into something sweet
Twilight blue on the driveway stone
Working hard in the quiet zone
Sifting wheat while the world is still
Climbing up on a floury hill
Humming low where the gravel glows
That is how the night baker goes
Gold in the pan and a heavy beat
Turning the salt into something sweet
Turning it sweet.
Just a little more sugar.
(Muted trumpet fade)
