(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