Goodbye Calcutta by Tim Kasher Lyrics
I smoke on the front porch
The french fries burn inside
I wait for Ricki Lake, I think she's on at 3:00
And smoke is everywhere
It’s everything
And keeps me from being seen
And I'll hide at the end of the couch
As the TV screams
"Some sad boy has been suffocating!"
And everyone thinks that he's guilty of something
And we don’t know what
As they point their fingers at his heartstrings unwinding
They lay on the floor, explode under their feet
His blood cakes the walls, еxplodes on the wood paneling
Thе blood of ex-lovers: goodbye, Calcutta
Smoke is soaking in the blood
On the walls that are closing in on me
So light up your incense, smoke up your cigarettes
The blue light of the TV screen
Needles through the haze
The light is piercing me, it pierces everything
This house can never go to sleep
And when cars go by, they peek inside
And see the TV scream
They know what it's like to be lonely
Or what it's like to be guilty of something
They don't know what
But their fingers point at their memories, dead dreams
As the smoke pulls away the blood clots in their veins
Count down to explode
Prepare to unload the bombs of ex-lovers
Goodbye, Calcutta
Your walls are closing in on me
Your walls are closing in on me
The french fries burn inside
I wait for Ricki Lake, I think she's on at 3:00
And smoke is everywhere
It’s everything
And keeps me from being seen
And I'll hide at the end of the couch
As the TV screams
"Some sad boy has been suffocating!"
And everyone thinks that he's guilty of something
And we don’t know what
As they point their fingers at his heartstrings unwinding
They lay on the floor, explode under their feet
His blood cakes the walls, еxplodes on the wood paneling
Thе blood of ex-lovers: goodbye, Calcutta
Smoke is soaking in the blood
On the walls that are closing in on me
So light up your incense, smoke up your cigarettes
The blue light of the TV screen
Needles through the haze
The light is piercing me, it pierces everything
This house can never go to sleep
And when cars go by, they peek inside
And see the TV scream
They know what it's like to be lonely
Or what it's like to be guilty of something
They don't know what
But their fingers point at their memories, dead dreams
As the smoke pulls away the blood clots in their veins
Count down to explode
Prepare to unload the bombs of ex-lovers
Goodbye, Calcutta
Your walls are closing in on me
Your walls are closing in on me