I'm sick of it all but I'm really in the think of you
Born in the 30's stuck in the 50's rule
No matter how I hate, it's really to late to try
Pack my bags and put an end to this lovely affair
I was a boy when I met you drenched in the sweat in heat
I got lost in the maze of your hazy and lazy backstreets
On a rainy afternoon the disel will fuse in my eyes
I fell for you baby, my Calcutta skylights
Love is getting stuck to your ground
Love me, you don't have to turn around
Calcutta is filth and dirt
So love is an eight lettered word
Oh, yeah
It's the pain of heat and the rain all through the year
But this guitar of mine has got used to the damp atmosphere
So pour me a drink and I'll write a song straight from my heart
And leave the rest to my old friend's guitar
Love is getting stuck to your ground
Love me, you don't have to turn around
Calcutta is filth and dirt
So love is an eight lettered word