(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