This one was inspired by my mate who, unwittingly, compressed all my thoughts into one short line.

We lived in a small town and the only way out was by bus, the last bus home was at Midnight and the journey to town took a long time, hence the journey became part of the adventure. Then into our teens it was a life line to the city center gigs, clubs etc.

Years later we were speaking about the past and things, it wasn't even about the bus, just the past. The thing he said cut me off and summed up the whole feeling I had, he didn't even look up as he said it, maybe he knew as well...who knows. This ones for you Neil.

 

 

222

Should the past stay in the past, does it matter anymore.

Nostalgia’s taking over, I’m becoming a bore.

I said

‘Why don’t we go to party town and try to score’?

But what he said next still knocks me on the floor.

 

His name is Neil, he is a friend of mine

Saw the future and told me in just one line

On a drunken night, Manchester, Northermoor, he said

‘The 222 just isn’t running anymore’.

 

This is a story that I’m too afraid to write,

It taps me on the shoulder every fucking night,

Traces of his face, I wish I never saw,

Remind me that the  bus just isn’t running any more.

 

His name is Neil, he is a friend of mine

Saw the future and told me in just one line

On a drunken night, Manchester, Northermoor, he said

The bus we used to catch just isn’t running anymore

 

Am I too old to dream

or too young to care?

I’m running down the road, I’m pulling out my hair.

There's nothing you say to change what that sucker saw,

The fact that the bus just isn’t running any more.

I’ve tried jumping through a window,

crawling on the floor

Swing from the rafters

‘I can’t take it any more’,

I drank a case of vodka and then some more,

But still the bastard bus isn’t running any more.