Thirsty for tasty spicy Tardy latter days of visualisation yearning of our souls, albeit impecunious longing incessantly to own a *** of tarmasalata Norms beheaded, of course we ain't the wretched son of a pauper plastic spoon turns silver, someday the table will turn we will own pakora and samosa with a tantalising subtle lemony taste oh-oh-one our language But soon, we'll throw a birthday party with hamburger patty Rays on our green pasture The sun will smile, moon will grin Then, our murmur will transmute into voices Quenched! our thirst for tasty spicy.