The Bus

The nigh-time bus driver pushes on closer
When I talk to him he doesn’t answer
I thought I heard him say ‘you are nobody here’
Just as she stepped on he did not register her

She climbed up the stairs with her hair and high heels in her hand
She didn’t look at me looking at her sitting down
The driver had not been one for too much conversation
I don’t know what I said but when she spoke I listened

(she said) Trust in everything that I don’t say
What is it that you think of me
Every thought you’ve had of this time is mine to wear home
Sometimes I am just too curious

She said my body is bought and sold just across the border
With each and every purchase I cross that line a little further
Tell me everything that you think that you know
About a night that is long
I’ve just had myself one
and I’m going home
I’m going home

Trust in everything that I don’t say
Think what you will of me
Every thought that you’ve had of this time is mine to wear home