Goodbye Calcutta
Tim Kasher Lyrics

I smoke on the front porch.
I sit outside and smoke while taking in my surroundings.

The french fries burn inside.
Something is cooking inside and may be burning.

I wait for Ricki Lake, I think she's on at 3:00.
While I smoke, I'm waiting and planning to watch Ricki Lake later.

And smoke is everywhere: It's everything And keeps me from being seen.
Smoke from the cigarettes encompasses me, it's almost untouchable and obstructs my view.

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
I bury myself at the edge of the sofa while the TV discusses a sad case that everyone assumes they understand, despite its ambiguity.

As they point their fingers at his heartstrings unwinding, They lay on the floor, explode under their feet His blood cakes the walls, explodes on the wood paneling The blood of ex-lovers: goodbye, Calcutta
Although the case remains a mystery, finger-pointing still occurs which results in death, violence, and heartbreak.

Smoke is soaking in the blood On the walls that are closing in on me.
Smoke from the cigarettes is mixing with the blood of the violence around me, and the walls seem to be closing in and suffocating me.

So light up your incense, smoke up your cigarettes.
Go ahead and light up your incense, smoke your cigarettes, and do what it is you need to do to cope with the world around you.

The blue light of the TV screen Needles through the haze.
The piercing bright, blue light of the TV screen penetrates through the thick wall of smoke in the house.

This house can never go to sleep And when cars go by, they peek inside And see the TV scream
This house is always awake and nosey passersby glance in and see the commotion happening due to the TV program.

They know what its like to be lonely Or what its like to be guilty Of something, They don't know what
Onlookers may understand what it is like to feel isolated or accused of something, yet still not have a clear grasp on what's happening.

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.
People are quick to point their fingers at memories that are haunting and the smoke is causing their veins to constrict. The blood is pumping furiously, and it feels like their hearts are going to erupt. The results are explosive and painful, like saying goodbye to an ex in Calcutta.

Your walls are closing on in me Your walls are closing on in me
The walls seem to be suffocating and crushing the observer, leading them to feel trapped and hopeless.