(Peter Cowap)



You've walked out on the in crowd

with a girl that you've just met

for a little late night livin' on your own

and you want to dance till morning with

this piece of fairer sex

and she says it's late and wants to head for home

and it's all part of the last bus home

in a gigantic green house where the late night buses stop

you'll  be waiting for another half an hour

with a man dressed in a raincoat

with a piece of string around

and a man whose dressed in mohair claims his car has broken down

and it's all part of the last bust home

for a moment you must swallow your pride

reach in your pocket for the  money for your ride

widespread a thousand eyes

this girl you've met tonight won't even steal a kiss

with a rocking, jogging motion you're about to take a ride

on a public corporation's road domain

with the silver rails surrounding

and the smoke that fills the air

and a weary bus conductor climbs the stairs

and it's all part of the last bus

all part of the last bus home