Bloody men are like bloody buses - You wait for about a year And as soon as one approaches your stop Two or three others appear.
You look at them flashing their indicators Offering you a ride. You're trying to read the destinations, You haven't much time to decide.
If you make a mistake, there is no turning back. Jump off, and you'll stand there and gaze While the cars, the taxis and the lorries go by And the minutes, the hours, the days.