Dancing in the Kitchen

Coffee's hot, the record's on, socks on the tile and the morning's long. You stole my mug again this morning, left yours full and cold on the shelf. We fight about the dishwasher rack then kiss about it, lose ourselves. You laugh at a joke from three years back that nobody else would get — and you spin me on the kitchen lino, nearly knock the toaster off its set. No big speech, no story to tell, just you and a Saturday doing fine — we're dancing in the kitchen, no reason, no rhyme. Bare feet on the cold floor, you and me and time. Nothing to prove, nothing to fix — just dancing in the kitchen. You hum the wrong words on purpose, I burn the eggs 'cause I'm watching you. There's a sticky spot by the table leg from a glass of juice we never quite got to. We don't need a single hard chapter to earn how good this feels — just two cups, a crackly record, and the way you move when you peel the meals. No big speech, no story to tell, just you and a Saturday doing fine — we're dancing in the kitchen, no reason, no rhyme. Bare feet on the cold floor, you and me and time. Nothing to prove, nothing to fix — just dancing in the kitchen. So dip me by the fridge magnets, twirl me past the junk drawer too. Let the eggs go cold, who cares, the only thing on the schedule is you. We could do this 'til we're ninety, same dumb song, same dumb crew. We're dancing in the kitchen, no reason, no rhyme. Bare feet on the cold floor, you and me and time. Nothing to prove, nothing to fix — just dancing in the kitchen. Coffee's cold now, who's to mind — still dancing in the kitchen, you and I.