Bakery After Close

Behind the counter where the flour settled deep

After hours when the local streets fall asleep

I saw a stranger staring back inside the glass

Parking right where they said they would never pass

Turn the key, lock the metal grate down (yeah) One cold frame

on my phone in this town

Who is that stranger in the mirror glass?

Standing in the dark where the headlights pass

Who is that stranger on the kitchen tile?

Trading every promise for a crooked smile

(trading it all!)

Flour on my apron,

rubber on the street We grind all night to the same cold

beat

(work, grind, work, grind)

Behind the counter in the dimming light

(hah) Stranger in the glass tonight