Bangy

Bangalore’s fucked up.
The weather is sickeningly pleasant.
All fucking year round.
The parks make you feel guilty,
about not having time to go.
There are so many places to eat,
you’ll lose your mind trying to find the right one.
When it’s spring, it shows.
There are wonderful, well turned out women,
causing traffic hazards at every turn.
The draft flows so freely,
it takes all the fun out of waiting.
They won’t let bands play at pubs,
neither will their mothers let them play at home.
The electricity will quit for hours,
leaving you in candlelit solitude.
The city goes to sleep at 11,
making for some pathetically quiet nights.
Palace Grounds can choke you on dust,
as the Rolling Stones play Dead Flowers.
You can buy alcohol at the supermarket,
with tax free coupons meant for food.
You have to settle for 20 minute traffic jams,
when Bombay enjoys the one hour versions.
Yeah, the more I think about it
the more I think Bangalore’s really fucked up.