All these mental age rastas with their continental
pastas
Sit heads up like owners of paradise,
Like dribstone-hardrocks dreadlocks hanging out of
hammocks
Man, they're chilling with a chillum their size
From swedish cheese parayogi to japanese karaoke,
It's all here side by side
Like an international crossroad where local
fishingboats
are for us to get to the sea spread so wide
And me I've already had enough of this
Ain't the kind of place I'm gonna miss
And when this guys from front and rear
Stick dirty needles in my ear
I knoo-o-o-ow I gotta get out of here!
With my thalifilled belly I am far enough from Delhi
And sure, it's beautiful here, indeed,
Before you crawl into your bed, "Dolphins' dance
'gainst the sunset!"
And sand's still burning under your feet
But soon as you get out of your hut there's vendors
driving you nuts
from jewels to coconuts it's all for sale
And Indian Railways brings another paleface whose acts
and look are like
one's just got out of jail...
And me I've already had enough of this
Ai'nt the kind of place I'm gonna miss
And when this man of honour cheers
and breaks another bottle of fear
I knoo-o-o-ow I gotta get out of here!
I gotta get out!!
And me I've already had enough of this
Ain't a kind of place I'm gonna miss
And when these people from far and near
Turn on an idiotic gear
I knoo-o-o-ow I gotta get out of here!!