Was it me you were not there for?

If you get on a bus today
You may get quite a surprise.
There could be a number of people there
Who’ve been riding on it for days!
They don’t have any home of their own
They have nowhere else they can go.
So they ride a round with an oyster card,
From King’s Cross to Walthamstow.

It’s not too bad in the winter time
The buses are very well heated
And if you go upstairs near the window
You can nearly always stay seated.
It is rather too hot in the summer
But that doesn’t matter so much
You can always sit by the river
Or even lie down in a ditch.

You think there are none in London?
Well ,it’s a metaphorical word,
And if you listen and look you’ll find
The meaning has become rather blurred
Some of them sleep on the night time bus
As it goes from Victoria to Greenwich
And when it turns round they stay on board
Till the bus goes back to the garage.

I am not really sure what they do after that
I don’t think it’s very much fun.
Maybe they can sleep in the graveyard
Until their time has come?
They’ll be so happy to go up to heaven
They will be most welcome at its door,
But what will they say to the rest of us?
“Was it me that you were not there for?”