Sitting at a bus stop wondering where I am,
Cries come through the night and it seems I'm not alone.Copper on your beat, betraying your youth:
Mother, your kid's not up to much!
Calling for help on your crackling box,
Knowing inside that you'd rather be down the pub.Christ! What a mess! He's gone off of his head,
Sitting at a bus stop hacking his veins.
Trying to restrain him, stop the flow of blood,
But he's bathing my hands in the warm and sticky mess.Sitting at a bus stop: who's this guy in black
Holding my hands like a mother with kids in church?
A flashing light is pulsing above,
But I know deep inside that they're wasting their time...There's a bloke on his lonely, and he's humming a song,
And he's walking a dog, but the dog isn't there,
So they carry him off, carry him off, carry him off.And it's four in the morning, and there's four in a fight,
And the cars are coming closer, you can hear them in the night,
And they carry them off, carry them off, carry them off.And the bloke on the lonely is biding his time.
Why am I lying on a bench on my side?
Carry me off, carry me off, carry me off.And the bus is arriving, and the people spew forth,
But they're passing me by with the wind from the north
Carry me off, carry me off, carry me off.
