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This was the first song I wrote in Bangladesh. It's about what it was like to be in such a different place and about the foreigner killings that started happening while we were there. The word "bideshi" means "foreigner" in Bengali. It was a word we heard a lot while we were there...
Modesty scarf on your shoulders
And back at home it grows colder,
But it's always warm in Khulna, Bangladesh.
4:41 - The call to prayer strikes my drums
Reminds me just how far we've come.
8:02 - A cold shower has to do
Another lesson I've learned from you.
9:03 - I'm dying to be
Anything but bideshi ( বিদেশি ).
I got the blues as I was reading the news,
An Italian man was shot in the street,
Gunned down I guess 'cause he looks like me.
12:04 - I stroll out the door,
The State Department's warning ignored.
12:05 - Why thank God I'm alive?
It's him that they're killing us for.
It's like when both teams are praying to score.
Modesty scarf on your shoulders,
And though it has not gotten colder
You've got the chills in Khulna, Bangladesh.