Bouncing along on this stupid bus;
Slicing through London with minimal fuss.
Wondering what lies in the hours ahead
Now that I’ve made it out of bed.
Maybe I’ll find my fame and wealth;
Or maybe I’ll lose some measure of health.
Who knows? Who cares?
I’m just negotiating life’s musical chairs.
It’s nearly time to get off the bus,
At least it’s not raining – always a plus.

Is it enough for us to be happy
In this little world of ours,
When there is pain and suffering
Beyond Colombia Road’s flowers?

Is it enough for me to just do no bad?
If not, what can I do to make Them glad?
I am young and I am able;
Surely there’s more I can do than set my table?

Is it enough for me to mind my own business,
Sitting in the sunshine with a beer?
Or should we be doing more
To ease any others’ fear?

Is it enough for me to just do no bad?
If not, what can I do to make Them glad?
I am young and I am able;
What can I do to make more lives stable?

And is it even really possible
To ignore people sitting on the street?
Can you really feel no sorrow,
When they’re moved on by The Beat?

Look after number one, they say.
Easier said than done.
But inextricably harder, Dear,
Is making a difference to someone.