Text: Tori Amos. Baker Baker.

Baker, baker, baking a cake, make me a day, make me whole again.
And I wonder what's in a day, what's in your cakes this time.
I guess you heard he's gone to LA. He says that behind my eyes I'm hiding.
And he tells me I pushed him away, that my hearts been hard to find.

Here. There must be something here. There must be something here... here...


Baker, baker, can you explain if truly his heart was made of icing.
And I wonder how mine could taste. Maybe we could change his mind.
I know you're late for your next parade. You came to make sure that I'm not running.
Well, I ran from him in all kinds of ways, guess it was his turn this time.


Time. Thought I'd made friends with time. Thought we'd be flying... maybe not this time.


Baker, baker, baking a cake, make me a day, make me whole again.
And I wonder if he's okay, if you see him say 'hi.'