Tekster: Madness. Seven. Cardiac Arrest.

Papers in the morning
Bowler hat on head
Walking to the bus stop
He's longing for his bed

Waiting with his neighbors
In the rush hour queue
Got to get the first bus

So much for him to do
He's got to hurry, got to get his seat
Can't miss his place, got to rest his feet

Ten more minutes till he gets there
The crossword's nearly done
It's getting so hard these days
Not nearly so much fun

His mind wanders to the office
His telephone, desk and chair
He's been happy with the company
They've treated him real fair

Think of seven letters
Begin and end in 'C'
Like a big American car
But misspelt with a 'D'

I wish this bus'd get a move on
Driver's taking his time
I just don't know I'll be late

Oh dear, what will the boss say?
Pull yourself together now
Don't get in a state

Don't you worry, there's no hurry
It's a lovely day
Could all be going your way

Take the doc's advice
Let up, enjoy your life
Listen to what they say
It's not a game they play

Never get there at this rate
He's caught up in a jam
There's a meeting this morning
It's just his luck, oh damn

His hand dives in his pocket
For his handkerchief
Pearls of sweat on his bowler
His pulse-beat seems so brief

Eyes fall on his wrist watch
The seconds pass real slow
Gasping for the hot air
But the chest pain, it won't go

Tried to ask for help
But can't seem to speak a word
Words are whispered frantically
But don't seem to be heard

What about the wife and kids?
They all depend on me

We're so sorry, we told you not to hurry
Now it's just too late
You've got a certain date
We thought we made it clear

We all voiced our inner fears
We left it up to you
There's nothing we can do