| Song | Bar |
| Artist | BAMBARA |
| Album | DREAMVIOLENCE |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| There were people at the bar where I was born | |
| but I don’t know them anymore. | |
| You were the image in my head when I was born. | |
| While they folded into each others mouths | |
| dropping stained teeth on the floor. | |
| Then, I saw you in the park when I was four. | |
| You burned like a cathedral door. | |
| I went back to where you stood, when I was five, | |
| all the trees leaned into windows now. | |
| Dripping stained glass in my eyes. | |
| Then, you touched me on the arm when I was nine. | |
| My fingernails cracked with colored lines. | |
| And I used that hand to write until I died | |
| you walked me back into the bar | |
| each new hair dancing with lice. |
| There were people at the bar where I was born | |
| but I don' t know them anymore. | |
| You were the image in my head when I was born. | |
| While they folded into each others mouths | |
| dropping stained teeth on the floor. | |
| Then, I saw you in the park when I was four. | |
| You burned like a cathedral door. | |
| I went back to where you stood, when I was five, | |
| all the trees leaned into windows now. | |
| Dripping stained glass in my eyes. | |
| Then, you touched me on the arm when I was nine. | |
| My fingernails cracked with colored lines. | |
| And I used that hand to write until I died | |
| you walked me back into the bar | |
| each new hair dancing with lice. |
| There were people at the bar where I was born | |
| but I don' t know them anymore. | |
| You were the image in my head when I was born. | |
| While they folded into each others mouths | |
| dropping stained teeth on the floor. | |
| Then, I saw you in the park when I was four. | |
| You burned like a cathedral door. | |
| I went back to where you stood, when I was five, | |
| all the trees leaned into windows now. | |
| Dripping stained glass in my eyes. | |
| Then, you touched me on the arm when I was nine. | |
| My fingernails cracked with colored lines. | |
| And I used that hand to write until I died | |
| you walked me back into the bar | |
| each new hair dancing with lice. |