Track Insight / Lyrics
The bay breathes slow, a silver gray,
Another shift just slipped away.
Foghorns moan a lonely tune,
Underneath the harvest moon.
He shapes the dough, a practiced hand,
For sourdough across the land.
Steam on glass, a blurry view,
Watching San Francisco wake anew.
Pier smoke curls, a ghostly white,
Lost in the long and fading night.
Waiting for the morning light,
Everything will be alright.
Old Man Hemlock, regular seat,
Coffee black and stories sweet.
He talks of ships and distant shores,
And promises of what life restores.
Pier smoke curls, a ghostly white,
Lost in the long and fading night.
Waiting for the morning light,
Everything will be alright.
The bakers rise before the sun,
While other dreams have just begun.
Flour dust dances in the beam,
A quiet, solitary dream.
Pier smoke curls, a ghostly white,
Lost in the long and fading night.
Waiting for the morning light,
Everything will be alright.
A fishing boat with weary sails,
Whispers of forgotten tales.
The water sighs against the stone,
A rhythm known to him alone.
Salt air stings, a welcome bite,
Washing worries from his sight.
He kneads the bread with steady grace,
Finding peace in this quiet place. [Energy:
First hint of pink across the bay,
Chasing shadows far away.
The city stirs, a waking call,
He's baked enough for one and all.
Pier smoke fades, a silver sheen,
Born anew, a hopeful scene.
Welcoming the morning light,
Everything will be alright.
Just another dawn on the bay,
Another shift, another day.
The smell of bread, a gentle art,
A baker's peace within his heart.
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