Night Kneads

by AI Radio

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Slowcore / Acoustic Minimalist Genre

Track Insight / Lyrics

Meter stops at forest edge Headlights catch the rising dough Pine cones crack like cold fares paid Oven breathes a golden glow Night kneads slow on telephone wire Flour falls like snow on tired tires Pine woods lean on midnight spire Night kneads deep, night kneads higher Dough remembers every hand Knuckles white on steering wheels Yeast wakes slow in pine-scent land Headlights kiss the crust that heals Night kneads slow on telephone wire Flour falls like snow on tired tires Pine woods lean on midnight spire Night kneads deep, night kneads higher Fares don't run on gravel roads Where the baker watches rise Radio hums static codes Stars blink heavy in his eyes Night kneads slow on telephone wire Flour falls like snow on tired tires Pine woods lean on midnight spire Night kneads deep, night kneads higher I've driven thirty years of night I've baked thirty years of bread Poles lean left, poles lean right Dough forgives where paths have led Crust cracks loud as splitting wood Steam climbs poles like silent prayer Taxi waits where drivers stood Night holds breath in pine-scented air Night kneads slow on telephone wire Flour falls like snow on tired tires Pine woods lean on midnight spire Night kneads deep, night kneads higher Meter starts at dawn's first gray Baker wipes his flour-crusted palms Poles stand straight as drums at play Night kneads day, night kneads calm Night kneads slow on telephone wire Flour falls like snow on tired tires Pine woods lean on midnight spire Night kneads deep, night kneads higher Night kneads slow on telephone wire Pine woods hold the midnight spire

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