Sting\'s on the radio
Sending out an S.O.S
I\'m on this autobus
Gazing at a mess
That once was a lady
No doubt
Downing a can of warm Mahou.
By the look in her eyes
She\'s nowt else to do.
Her dress is a mess
And her hair\'s a nest
For dandruff and nits.
She\'s loose at the seams
Breaking to bits.
Is she a mother?
Or someone\'s ex-lover?
Why should I care
If she\'s one or the other?
She wouldn\'t want
My sympathy
Doesn\'t care
About me
Staring
Or even what I think of her.
Am I past caring?
If I am
Then sing on Sting
You\'re singing for me -
Save all our souls
And set us free,
(Free, free)
From apathy.
Yet she knows-
I can just tell
She knows-
It\'s far too late
For help.
These days
We\'re all sipping warm beer
When it comes to brotherly love.
So,
Sing on Sting
And pray to God
That someone\'s
Listening.....
‘cos no one on this bus is.