You smell like yeast and heavy cream
A midnight shift, a baker's dream
The flour clings to every fold
While the summer air turns cold
You wait on the wooden porch
Holding a low golden torch
Watching the gray clouds roll by
Under a heavy black sky
You lean on the railing rail
While the wind begins to wail
Coffee steaming in a tin
Waiting for the light to begin
You wait on the wooden porch
Holding a low golden torch
Watching the gray clouds roll by
Under a heavy black sky
The thunder hits a low bass note
A heavy weight inside your throat
You see the street lamps flicker dim
Right where the garden edges rim
You wait on the wooden porch
Holding a low golden torch
Watching the gray clouds roll by
Under a heavy black sky
Wet cedar smells like old pine wood
Standing where the oak tree stood
One drop hits your open hand
The only peace in all the land
The oven heat is far behind
A different peace for you to find
You watch the water hit the street
Until the morning and midnight meet
You wait on the wooden porch
Holding a low golden torch
Watching the gray clouds roll by
Under a heavy black sky
Just hold the light.
Until the rain stops.
Keep the porch warm.
Yeah, just stay right there.
