| Papers in the morning | |
| Bowler hat on head | |
| Walking to the bus stop | |
| He's longing for his bed | |
| Waiting with his neighbors | |
| In the rush hour queue | |
| Got to get the first bus | |
| So much for him to do | |
| He's got to hurry, got to get his seat | |
| Can't miss his place, got to rest his feet | |
| Ten more minutes till he gets there | |
| The crossword's nearly done | |
| It's getting so hard these days | |
| Not nearly so much fun | |
| His mind wanders to the office | |
| His telephone, desk and chair | |
| He's been happy with the company | |
| They've treated him real fair | |
| Think of seven letters | |
| Begin and end in ' | |
| C'Like a big | |
| American car | |
| But misspelt with a ' | |
| D'I wish this bus'd get a move on | |
| Driver's taking his time | |
| I just don't know | |
| I'll be late | |
| Oh dear, what will the boss say? | |
| Pull yourself together now | |
| Don't get in a state | |
| Don't you worry, there's no hurry | |
| It's a lovely day | |
| Could all be going your way | |
| Take the doc's advice | |
| Let up, enjoy your life | |
| Listen to what they say | |
| It's not a game they play | |
| Never get there at this rate | |
| He's caught up in a jam | |
| There's a meeting this morning | |
| It's just his luck, oh damn | |
| His hand dives in his pocket | |
| For his handkerchief | |
| Pearls of sweat on his bowler | |
| His pulse-beat seems so brief | |
| Eyes fall on his wrist watch | |
| The seconds pass real slow | |
| Gasping for the hot air | |
| But the chest pain, it won't go | |
| Tried to ask for help | |
| But can't seem to speak a word | |
| Words are whispered frantically | |
| But don't seem to be heard | |
| What about the wife and kids? | |
| They all depend on me | |
| We're so sorry, we told you not to hurry | |
| Now it's just too late | |
| You've got a certain date | |
| We thought we made it clear | |
| We all voiced our inner fears | |
| We left it up to you | |
| There's nothing we can do |
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