Mr. Dutta's wonderful scooter

Goodmorning Mr. Dutta
I love the way you ride your scooter sir.
Oh that's a wonderful machine, his scooter
See through, baby-blue.

Like a crow he flies, through the deserted streets of Maniktola
On his little scooter.
Time was liquid, and the light a calmer shade of yellow
As Mr. Dutta flew in his scooter.

Oh, the wheels barely touched the ground;
As Mr. Dutta, searching for a love lost
Flew past in his scooter.

She had touched his face and kissed his lips gently
As he slept in a night so dark, that the stars shone like diamonds.
Her chiffon veil had caressed his face for the last time
As she turned her face away.
Her hair had floated in the wind as if they were unwilling to leave.
But leave did she,
While Mr. Dutta lay in a star-washed slumber.

Wake up Mr. Dutta, your love flees
The summer flowers will never feel as fragrant against your skin
Wake up Mr. Dutta, your love escapes
Ride your flying scooter, oh Zeus born in a mistaken time.

Mr. Dutta, Mr. Dutta
How fast he flies
On his wonderful scooter,
See through baby-blue.