Download an MP3 of this song. Mike plays guitars and vocals on this one.
You wake up in the morning drag the razor 'cross your face,
Be another useful android to join the human race,
And you leave your small abode for the bright lights of the city,
With your sexy-sardine-swimsuit on, you're feeling a tad bit shitty,
Then you remember what you've forgotten, what it was you should have done,
So you reach for your breast-pocket, but "oh fuckinell" they're gone,
So you enter in a news shop that's stock-piled for the war,
There's thirty-thousand different types of chocolate bars in store,
And you spend a bloody fortune to support the health system,
You grab your pack of 'slow-deaths' and out you go again,
Your heart races or even stops a beat or two,
As you tear at the cellophane, staring at the blue,
Logo of your favourite brand, Craven "A", but mild,
You put one to your lips, you light, you puff, you smile,
But the bus pulls up quite suddenly and you're there in a flash,
Destination's Leicester Square, twenty quid in cash,
But the driver 'e ain't 'avin' it, he looks at your quite queer,
Points at your saviour-stick and says "ya can't do that in 'ere",
Oh why, the fuck can't you smoke on the bus?
Oh why, the fuck can't you smoke on the bus?
When I was a nipper, one thing I liked to do,
Was go on up to Bristol on the old X2,
Bestowed upon the top-deck at the back with all my mates,
Puffin' on some Superkings, we thought that it was great,
Up-and-down, and down-and-up, for 50p each way,
Talkin' loud 'bout teenage things was how we spent the day,
But now I think about those kiddies that have to live today,
Adolecense in some worn-out-town, hours to waste away,
They don't have the options that I had as a boy,
Instead they sit connected to interactivevirtualtoys,
Because you see all those conservative eatersofbakedbeans,
Have made it now illegal, to bus with nicotene,
Oh why, the fuck can't you smoke on the bus?
Oh why, the fuck can't you smoke on the bus?
So you let me know what I know with your moralistic guile,
That smoking is so terrible and fags the devil's bile,
That we're no-good scummy low-lifes who pollute your living space,
Well for that I'd like to puff away for England in your face!
Cos you see we're not so bad at all if you put things into scale,
We're not there making atom bombs or out there killing whales,
We're only killing ourselves it's population control,
Self-imposed you see, you know we're martyrs and all,
As you World fills up with all you TV-setted-suited-shirts,
And your discarded food wrappers pollute thy sacred Earth,
Do we not have the right to pass them freely with no fuss?
And relax a little bit by smoking on the fucking bus?
Oh why, the fuck can't you smoke on the bus?
Oh why, the fuck can't you smoke on the bus?
Oh why, the fuck can't you smoke on the bus?
Oh why, the fuck do they make so much fuss?
* part of the forthcoming Craven "A" Saga.
© 2004 Mike Harris. Based on an idea by Andy Lim. For rights, I reserve my rights to this work as my own. The recordings of the pieces may be freely downloaded, shared and performed; song long as it is for non-commercial purposes and so long as I am credited as the original author and so long as you are happy to share recordings of your performances and intepretations of the pieces. The lyrics may be copied and reproduced in part or whole, use them as you wish so long as it is for non-commercial purposes.