Things He Handed Down

LuchiLuchi 

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Luchi

Luchi (Bengali: লুচি) or Lusi (Assamese: লুচি) is a deep-fried flatbread, made of Maida flour, originating from the Bengal region. Luchi is especially popular in the Indian states of Assam, Odisha, West Bengal and Tripura and in the neighbouring country Bangladesh. It is notably eaten with aloor dum or kosha mangsho. Since Luchi does not involve rice or rice flour, it is a popular staple item at times when rice is to be avoided, as in case of ekadashi, for those who believe in the ritual, or similar instances. In such ritualistic instances, since the primary food needs to be vegetarian, Luchi is preferred with dum aloo or any similar vegetarian dish. In occasions where no such restriction is mandated, luchi and kosha mangsho is often a popular combination. more »

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I look myself in the mirror and find
I see your reflection staring back at me
You passed the pain from your eyes to mine
Knowing what a burden it would be

You're the scar that keeps on bleeding
Hide my feelings, overeating
Cause I can't find a way of healing

How can fathers not love their sons
Let wicked words roll of their tongues
Wounds and scars from battles
That no one really won
Hidden behind smiles in a broken frame
You locked your target as you took aim
Even though I left that hometown
Still got the things he handed down

You sit in church pews and pray on a Sunday
Pretending that you're a good man
Preaching your faith says its a sin to be gay
But what happens when it's your son

Cause you're the scar that keeps on bleeding
Hide my feelings, overeating
Cause I can't find a way of healing

How can fathers not love their sons
Let wicked words roll of their tongues
Wounds and scars from battles
That no one really won
Hidden behind smiles in a broken frame
You locked your target as you took aim
Even though I left that hometown
Still got the things he handed down

You coloured my heart black and blue
Cut so deep it went right through
It's taken time but I know it's true
I was never gonna please you

How can fathers not love their sons
Let wicked words roll of their tongues
Wounds and scars from battles
That no one really won
Hidden behind smiles in a broken frame
You locked your target as you took aim
Even though I left that hometown
Still got the things he handed down

I look myself in the mirror and find
I see your reflection staring back at me

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