standing on the corner stuck in the avenues waiting for a ride as the fog rolls in he's got his leather jacket zipped up tight (it's Friday night and the bus is running late) it's been three months and he's finally lost all hope when he looks to his left and she is calling him back for more (it's Friday night and the bus is running late) it's the same old thing in the morning and everyday trying to get out of the avenues if he can only find his way (it's Friday night and the bus is running late) the road to his home has never looked so far away he'll never make it past the bus stop where he's destined to always be (it's Friday night and the bus is running late) [chorus] well he dreams of a life of comfort and for the friends of yesterday for the tide to take the accidents and make them distant memories all he wants is the life that until now he's been denied so he waits for another time.