Backyard - Bambara

We’re at some late night art gallery

A 50's living room is nailed to the ceiling

You look pretty and sweet with red wine on your teeth

But I can’t shake this feeling

Like I’m capsized and kicking

We’re the last ones here and people start to clean

Nagging tired and slow like blood drunk little sand fleas

And I shake you awake and say where to next

Cause with the morning you leave

You say: «I think Red Tide might still be open.»

And I say: «When you’re gone how you planning on coping?»

I will pretend that you’re dead

And I’ll take what you left in my head

To the backyard and fill it with flowers instead

A bell’s ringing somewhere near the beach

It’s bright and shrill and it’s louder than it should be

I wonder if you’ll hear it tomorrow night

When everyone is sleeping

I rest my head on your shoulder

«What're you gonna do when I get back home and she wants you to hold her?»

I will pretend that you’re dead

And I’ll take what you left in my head

To the backyard and fill it with flowers instead

I will pretend that you’re dead (Huh!)

(Take what you left) And I’ll take what you left in my head

To the backyard and fill it with flowers instead