Ohlala

There's a girl, her name is BambirellaA gothic little princess grooving like an umbrellaOne could swear she's an ad for autism(But she's) two hundred pounds of poetry and dark romanticismShe's been invited by a neighbour at a West Indian partyRum flowing everywhere, stupid people laughing loudlyNeurosis resurfaces, she'd be better on her ownThan to share a night of shit with La Compagnie CréoleBambirella don't like CariocaFuck off Huggy, leave me on the sofa(Tous ensemble!)Ohlala Ohlala Ohlala OhlalaEh oui (Ohlala)C'est comme çaOhlala Ohlala Ohlala OhlalaBen v'là (Ohlala)C'est la vieSome assholes are gonna learn what it's like to be downPas de chatte (Ohlala)C'est la failleOhlala Ohlala Ohlala OhlalaEh oui (Ohlala)C'est comme ça"Dancing is easier than trying to find some work"She thinks, as inside she slowly goes berserkShe feels several laughing eyes are scanning her entire bodyShe knows that within hours they all will be so sorryGross reflections, stupid puns and silly jokesThe cheap perfumes melted with the smells of booze and smokeIt makes her really sick so she's heading for the toiletsShe's barely at the door (when) she feels a hand on her butt... Oh no!Too much for her to takeSomething's growing insideToo much for her to takeThey can run but can't hideToo much for her to takeThe fuckin' fury is now unleashedShe is gonna quote some BaudelaireTo the motherfucker who touched her derriere(Zoukez!)Ohlala Ohlala Ohlala OhlalaEh oui (Ohlala)C'est comme çaOhlala Ohlala Ohlala OhlalaBen v'là (Ohlala)C'est la vieSome assholes are gonna learn what it's like to be downPas de chatte (Ohlala)C'est la failleOhlala Ohlala Ohlala OhlalaEh oui (Ohlala)C'est comme çaFuck that shitBambirella will never go there againAll alone, without one of her depressed friends(Note: Could Kassav's drummer play that pleasant bridge?)There's no fun in all their Caribbean shitNo frizzy asshole hair-dressed like Robert SmithLet the song endwith the third shotgun blastfor no particular reason