Mal Webb - Laksa lyrics

I dabbled in Tom Chad Goong for a while But it lacks a laksa's lackadaisical style Consommé can cope in a shrouded tureen But a laksa's at home In a crowded street scene Just hold on tight and don't wear white My favourite place to go When I'm down on my luck is a wee Malay cafe where they do a good laksa The price is right, the decor's sh**e And don't wear white The waitress comes to me No expression on her face Could be fire inside A serene chilly surface She's mild despite my wild delight But don't wear white Oo laksa, for thrills and spills It's superlative du jour Oo laksa, for all your ills This hot broth'll have the cure 'Cos I'll be sculling the dregs 'Til I sweat like gelignite Lips tingling in the afterglow Of a sacred fishy rite Just hold on tight and don't wear white A marbled lava lake Blood from Jack Pollock's toe Upon a tofu shore Creamy tides ebb and flow The prawns invite a tender bite So don't wear white Pasta shiatsu pats you With long floppy fingers A canoodling spoonful So pungently lingers Attain new height in taste bud flight And don't wear white If you like your dining With moaning and whining If you want me to stay Don't take my broth away