Madame Oscar

Madame Oscar is running late
She fell into a trap
Today there's a bus strike
And those assholes don't want to know
Madame Oscar is pissed
It's already quarter past 7
Too late for her evening soap opera
It puts her in a black rage

Who's gonna bring back Mrs. Oscar?
It's too late Mrs. Oscar!

So she goes down to the bar
To see if maybe old man Zanzibar
Can give her a ride in his Panhard
But Zanzibar is at the pool table
Since this morning he hasn't stopped drinking
He doesn't want to believe these stories
Of bus strikes
Of evening soap operas
Of quarter past 7
& black rage

Mr. Canut could have
Accompanied her to Répu
But his glasses have disappeared
His eyes can't drive naked

Mrs. Oscar has no hope
& there's no one to sympathize
Her big joint is looking to sit down
He only finds the edge of the sidewalk
Coming from the Boulevard, a dirty cockroach
Comes to sit next to Mrs. Oscar

Suddenly he pulls out his big knife
& stabs her in the back
Tomorrow in the newspapers it will read

That on the boulevard in the early morning
A poor old lady died of sorrow
& the killer is still being sought

So what?

Who's gonna bring back Mrs. Oscar?
It's too late Mrs. Oscar!

You can call yourself Oscar Tramor
But here you are all alone like a dead rat