The guy on the bus, he went fuckin mental,
We'd only just left Manchester Central.
Stopping the 85, driver disabled.
Impatience from all sides enabled.
WHERE AM I? His voice projected,
Near Moss Side - he's disconnected.
I grabbed my chain, observed right in,
Regardless of the crack coke sin.
For his body screams the sign is vacant,
The abuse has left him, screaming latent.
For some just think 'What a nutter'.
The addled mouth in faux filth mutter.
Screaming at a woman, "ARE YOU BLIND?"
He didn't mean to be unkind.
Her shades suggest she couldn't see,
She shrugged in the face of uncertainty.
And finally he found his stop,
Driver frustrated; at last the drop.
A one fingered salute was how they departed,
For the young shop girl had bravely started...
Her voice was calm; she spoke like lamb,
And touched him soft, unlike the gram.
For she had been the one true hero,
When others would have met with zero.
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