Hotel California

On a dry Indian highway, stale wind in my hair,
Warm smell of paratha, rising up through the air,
Up ahead in the distance, I felt the sweltering heat;
My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim,
I had to stop for a meal,
There she stood on the roadside;
I heard the malik yell,
And I was thinking to myself,
This could be dhaba or this could be tava;
Then he lit up the stove and he fried me an egg,
There were noises down the highway,
I thought I heard them say...

Welcome to the hotel california,
Such a dingy place;
Such a grimy face;
Plenty of room at the hotel california,
Any time of year, you can find it here....