The Kingston bridge at rush hour Traffic standing still I know that I'll get home some time Perhaps I never will Perched up high above the Clyde The sparkling river flickers Sitting inside of my steed of steel A slow boat would prove quicker A bottle neck Some have said A narrow corked up lane Lift the lid We're all released Pouring out again A rare event the sun bakes us As transmissions stuck in neutral The chance to just get out and walk Would prove dangerous Pointless, futile So patience holds us prisoner A stationary dance  ensues A fag for him A coke for you The radio plays us news Songs from charts reverberate As CD's spin there tunes Moving now Building speed The gears are climbed with ease The sweeping turn of the motorway We'll get home in the end The Kingston bridge at rush hour Will drive you round the bend I know that I got home last night Tonight I surely will. AGL ...