(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