About 'The Song about the Indian Restaurant'
This is a song about my local. Everyone’s got a favourite cafe or place and this place is mine. It is a tiny place with a concrete floor and cheep tables and chairs.
There is an open kitchen in the back which is bustling with the clanging of utensils, the chatter of usually a couple of languages and at least one big crash of pots at some point in the dining experience.
In terms of aroma, well you can usually pick that up about 500 metres from the front door if the wind is in the right direction.
Every week, Aruna and the women who work in the kitchen greet me with big smiles and even hugs – if they’re not slammed in the kitchen.
The food has become my Sunday family meal as my mum’s been gone from this planet 20 odd years now and this is my equivalent of going home for a home cooked meal.
I get in my car and drive, when I feel that hunger inside
and I just cant wait, I just cant wait
Reddy red rooster rolls by, and I wave to Kentucky fried
I’m on my way and it’s a great day
City of Dandenong, it’s a sign. Park the car, pay my time
I don’t hesitate, I pick up the pace
Cause nobody nobody
makes pakoras and Vedas and something tasty with TomatERS like Aruna
makes Dossa and samosa like the Dossa and samosa of
Aruna and her lovely ladies
I’d like a pan roll please, they’re rather nice,
they are theCchiko rolls of paradise
This pilgrim waits, anoint my plate
A little bit of Puli rice, potato Masala two ways twice
I’m in a state, of carbohydrate grace
Everything is alright Everything is alright
Cause nobody, nobody
makes Pakoras, Si Signoria when the moon hits your eye
like a big Papadum it’s Amore
Cause nobody nobody
makes Pakoras and Vedas and something tasty with TomatERS like Aruna
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