| Sweet time, memory
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| Coming back home
|
| Cool, clear, slow and cloudy
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| Watching Bangalore flowers
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| Simple, smiling, windblown
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| Sipping Southie coffee
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| By my side, I’m not alone
|
| Around Bangalore flowers
|
| Everywhere this land I go
|
| I’m weary, I’m worried, I’m craving
|
| Back on the road, up the plateau
|
| For this bearable lightness of being
|
| She’s got me in the zone
|
| She’s a flower, a Bangalore flower
|
| She’s got me in the zone
|
| No up-market paint job, no cover-ups
|
| She keeps me on the phone
|
| Flower, Bangalore flower
|
| She’s got me in the zone
|
| Days, minutes, hours
|
| Going to the shows
|
| Talkies, music, first-day covers
|
| With Bangalore flowers
|
| Pulp fiction in the green
|
| Stories intertwine
|
| Times change, brand-new scene
|
| Still, Bangalore flowers
|
| Everywhere this land I go
|
| I’m weary, I’m worried, I’m craving
|
| To be back on the road, up the plateau
|
| For this bearable lightness of being
|
| No poster on my wall
|
| No stuck-up intellectual
|
| Just a Bangalore flower
|
| No high-fly Barbie doll
|
| No need to have it all
|
| Just a Bangalore flower |