Woke up late on Tuesday, rain against the pane Another faded promise, washed down the drain The milkman left a note, it said You look so pale In this provincial drama, I'm a ghost without a tale These polyester trousers, clinging to my skin Remind me of the chances that I'll never win Oh, catch the last bus to Altrincham Where nothing ever happens, nothing ever can A shy boy's revolution, stifled by the rain Just the hum of streetlights and this sweet, familiar pain Last bus... Altrincham... again and again... A sparrow in the gutter, feathers damp and grey Reflects my own condition, on this dismal day The girl behind the counter, smiles a weary smile We share a silent language, trapped in this exile Her eyes hold resignation, polished to a sheen The brightest thing on offer in this washed-out scene Oh, catch the last bus to Altrincham Where nothing ever happens, nothing ever can A shy boy's revolution, stifled by the rain Just the hum of streetlights and this sweet, familiar pain Last bus... Altrincham... again and again... Is there life beyond the roundabout? Beyond the chip shop glow? Or is this all there is, this melancholic show? The conductor rings the bell, a dull and hollow sound Another chapter ending on this rain-soaked ground Last bus... Altrincham... Familiar pain... stifled by the rain... Nothing ever happens... nothing ever can... Last bus... Altrincham... Tell me if it ever snowed in June...
