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Robb Johnson, A Break in the Clouds

Man Walks Into a Pub

The Justice Bus

Every day after day after day after day after day
We shrug ourselves into the clothes we wore yesterday
Queue up with the pensioners, students, kids and mums
Cheap labour waiting for the bus to come.

We rise up in the shadows, in the shadows we remain
On the streets where we live all it ever does is rain,
We tumble out of doorways, stumble through the dark
struck dumb
Cheap labour waiting for the bus to come.

Waiting for the Justice Bus,
It’s a long time coming,
Cheap labour, waiting for the Justice Bus.

Every day after day after day after day after day
We rattle to the glue factory on the 46A
Where we hold it all together for crusts and crumbs
Cheap labour waiting for the bus to come

The driver takes your money and he sadly shakes his head
This ain’t the Justice Bus today, just the 46A instead
So we queue up with the pensioners, students, kids and mums
Cheap labour waiting for the bus to come.

God sleeps late in his private estate
With his profits, stocks and shares
Is this your idea of heaven?
Who wants to be a millionaire?

I’m waiting for the Justice Bus,
Working on that Justice Bus…

I think, what with the notes and the poems, this one needs no explanation. Except maybe I could add the following vaguely-related anecdote. I was waiting for a bus to go to see the author David Peace talk about one of his excellent books. Here, the buses are named after a variety of famous names who - presumably - have some sort of connection with Brighton and Hove. It wasn’t the Justice Bus that turned up at my bus stop, but it was The Count Peter Kropotkin, and it was driven by a bloke with a superb punk rock Mohican…

 

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