As the bright clubs flush out the bright young things
On to the quieting bunch on the night bus
Quite what I love about the night bus
Is beside me sometimes when that guy comes up
You think the future is not what it used to be
These are the good old daze, just you wait and see
As painted nails tapped rhythms on protected screens
Jaded eyes glancing at techno streams
The trainee nurses, and the keen on make-up
A baby wails mainly for space and a meal
Greying hair recedes and the pace of life speeds
Could be eight or three on the 83
You think the future is not what it used to be
These are the good old daze, just you wait and see
Stale breath battles what vapes make sweet
Snazzle of the headphone on a gamer in grief
Anger-ridden teens too scared to make a scene
Conveyor belt preening of layered hair that plainly needs seeing to
White dust drugs and sights to shock
Nice loving mummies on the night bus
Overnight bus club with the high street under
Sky that is done fighting this rock (you think the future is not what it used to be)
These are the good old daze, just you wait and see
Surprised by a look from some eyes that are up
Before their iPhone summons them, and I'm left looking
At eyes that shrug, then that type of look
Where eyes touch once, she sizes me up
And then denies the moment with the eyes looking off
A tight blush comes and I fight with love
I've got a right flush up, but I try to shrug
Because the night bus home is like a night bus club
I guide my shookness out to the night that's stuck
Between night and sun
The lighthouse is guiding our eyes
To signs like chameleon, lies and change
Outside an eternal glinting picture of
Serpentine, glimmering rivers of piss
As the bright clubs flush out the bright young things
Onto the quieting bunch on the night bus
