There's a girl, her name is Bambirella
A gothic little princess grooving like an umbrella
One could swear she's an ad for autism
(But she's) two hundred pounds of poetry and dark romanticism
She's been invited by a neighbour at a West Indian party
Rum flowing everywhere, stupid people laughing loudly
Neurosis resurfaces, she'd be better on her own
Than to share a night of sh** with La Compagnie Cr?ole
Bambirella don't like Carioca
f** off Huggy, leave me on the sofa
(Tous ensemble!)
Ohlala Ohlala Ohlala Ohlala
Eh oui (Ohlala)
C'est comme ?a
Ohlala Ohlala Ohlala Ohlala
Ben v'l? (Ohlala)
C'est la vie
Some a**holes are gonna learn what it's like to be down
Pas de chatte (Ohlala)
C'est la faille
Ohlala Ohlala Ohlala Ohlala
Eh oui (Ohlala)
C'est comme ?a
"Dancing is easier than trying to find some work"
She thinks, as inside she slowly goes berserk
She feels several laughing eyes are scanning her entire body
She knows that within hours they all will be so sorry
Gross reflections, stupid puns and silly jokes
The cheap perfumes melted with the smells of booze and smoke
It makes her really sick so she's heading for the toilets
She's barely at the door (when) she feels a hand on her bu*t... Oh no!
Too much for her to take
Something's growing inside
Too much for her to take
They can run but can't hide
Too much for her to take
The f**in' fury is now unleashed
She is gonna quote some Baudelaire
To the motherf**er who touched her derriere
(Zoukez!)
Ohlala Ohlala Ohlala Ohlala
Eh oui (Ohlala)
C'est comme ?a
Ohlala Ohlala Ohlala Ohlala
Ben v'l? (Ohlala)
C'est la vie
Some a**holes are gonna learn what it's like to be down
Pas de chatte (Ohlala)
C'est la faille
Ohlala Ohlala Ohlala Ohlala
Eh oui (Ohlala)
C'est comme ?a
f** that sh**
Bambirella will never go there again
All alone, without one of her depressed friends
(Note: Could Ka**av's drummer play that pleasant bridge?)
There's no fun in all their Caribbean sh**
No frizzy a**hole hair-dressed like Robert Smith
Let the song end
with the third shotgun blast
for no particular reason