Running on even time, we’ve reached the end of the line
When the driver blacks out his destination blinds
Well he's had his cup of tea, stirred with a carriage key
To short out all the inner carriage lights

This is the last tram to nowhere depot bound…
Stuck in the middle of the Black Hole going deeper underground…
Everything starts with empty seats like a ghost train with no sound…
Out of the frying pan into the fire on the last tram depot bound

I hadn’t read the script, the timetable’s ripped to bits
The network’s closed down, there’s no recovery time
Now I'm sat all alone, I'd rather be back home
These should be the best times of our lives

This is the last tram to nowhere depot bound…
Stuck in the middle of the Black Hole going deeper underground…
Everything starts with empty seats like a ghost train with no sound…
Out of the frying pan into the fire on the last tram depot bound

This is not punk, this is not funk, this is not disco
This is not soul, this is not dance, this is not techno
This is not boogie, this is not woogie this is not retro
This is not hip-hop, this is not rap, this is not metal

This is the last tram to nowhere depot bound…
Stuck in the middle of the Black Hole going deeper underground…
Everything starts with empty seats like a ghost train with no sound…
Out of the frying pan into the fire on the last tram depot bound

This is the last tram to nowhere depot bound
This is the last tram to nowhere depot bound
This is the last tram to nowhere depot bound
This is the last tram to nowhere…