The view from city buses   Is most wondrous to behold   As the panoply of bridges, domes    And alleyways unfolds   And there down among the debris   Is a face that you once knew   And you hope she doesn't notice   That she's waving at you      Are you cash inside a cylinder   In Mother London's shop,   To be popped around the system   'Til the air is all used up?   So you sit there in the carriage   Turning seven shades of blue   And the people on the platform   Are all waving at you      So you backed that little runaround   It was going for a song   And now you wish you'd never bothered   'Cos it's always going wrong   And you break down on the West way   And the rain turns into blue   And the Q.P.R. supporters   Are all waving at you      Oh, the pressures of survival,   They can break an honest man   And the lack of understanding   Is so hard to understand   If you want to leave the party   Then you'd better join the queue   And the ones who beat you to it   Are all waving at you