A man walked down the street
Early one spring morn
Shirt untucked and his pants torn
He sat down on a bench
He thought there the bus would come
So he sat and sat
And the bus never came

For an hour, two, three, he waited
All day long he sat and read
Popping up with all kinds of ideas in his head
And the bus never came

Through the night he sat with no light
He tried not to fall asleep
For what if he bus would come, when I am not awake?, He thought
And the bus never came

For a week he sat anxious and depressed
And he sure got a lot of rest
As he sat he always sang
And still the bus never came

Through the year he sat there and waited
With the people who passed by he debated
He felt no pride, he felt no shame
And the bus never came

Through the years he sat through wind rain and cold
No success earned nothing sold
Missing love, riches and fame
And the bus never came

One day very old he died
Sitting there with his bag by his side
He was lonely, it drove him insane
Then the bus finally came