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The view from city buses is most wondrous to behold
As the panoply of bridges, domes and alleyways unfolds
And there down among the dead men
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 pumped around the system till 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 bagged that little runaround, it was going for a song
And now you wish you'd never bothered
'Cause it's always going wrong
And you break down on the Westway
And the rain turns into glue
And the QPR 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
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