Mr. Busdriver, can you take me home?
My blood's been boilin', and I'm broken down.
It won't be long, it won't be long...
Sweet things cookin' and a phone.
Mr. Busdriver, can you take me home?
If it wasn't for Mother Mary, I'd be all alone.
It won't be long, it won't be long...
Prayin', prayin' down to the bone.
Mr. Busdriver, I'm on the road again.
These troubles would have killed the likes of weaker men.
It won't be long, it won't be long...
Sweet things cookin' and some bones.
(SUMMER 1995/SCA)
