It’s weird, a bit like shame
or I dunno what.
That other one must be going to work
while I’m heading back home.

An empty bus at five past five,
passing the H&M store.
She’s heading for work, I’m going back
to get some uneasy sleep.

The night shift, the morning shift.
I’m rather drunk, but not that drunk.

I’m gonna skip classes today,
Won’t make it for two o’clock.
So strange to be coming back
when all the lights are off at home.

That blond guy was even nice
but one day he was gone.
It’s the Saxon Garden we’re passing
and soon it will be dawn.

The night shift, the morning shift.
I’m rather drunk, but not that drunk.

The one who’s going to work
is ten years older than me, or less.
It’d be less embarrassing
if someone else got on this bus.

The morning bus and class struggle:
the working class, the owning class.
Just before I left, I had Long Island iced tea.
It wasn’t really a good idea.
Bankowy Square, as grey as ever,
I guess it’ll soon be dawn.

The night shift, the morning shift.
I’m rather drunk, but not that drunk.