Bakery Close

(mhm, okay)

It's past midnight behind the glass counter I folded the apron,

turned off the mixer

And I kept the receipt from your coffee

For no reason at all,

just a habit

(just a habit)

I've got a petty confidence rising up

No more sweepin' the floor for the crumbs of us

(here we go) Oh,

let the late summer heat take the room We're dancing on flour-dusted

shoes Spinning around, nothing to lose

Yeah, we're making our own rules

The streetlights are warming the pavement I’m clutching that paper like it's

a testament

To the petty little things we keep locked away But the beat

is keeping me awake

(awake,

yeah)

Oh, let the late summer heat take the room We're dancing on

flour-dusted shoes Spinning around,

nothing to lose

Yeah, we're making our own rules

Just a receipt on the counter...

(for no reason)