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Mandy's in the papers, 'cause she tried to go to Spain |
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She'll soon be in the dock, and in the papers once again |
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Vicki's got her story about the mirror and the cane |
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It may be false, it may be true |
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But nothing has been proved |
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Stephen's in his dressing-gown now, breakfasting alone |
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Too sick to eat, he's on his feet and to the telephone |
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The police inspector soothes him with his sympathetic tone |
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It may be false, it may be true |
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But nothing has been proved |
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In the House a resignation, guilty faces everyone |
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Christine's fallen out with Lucky, Johnny's got a gun |
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"Please, please me"'s number one |
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(It's a scandal, it's a scandal, such a scandal) |
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Now Stephen's in the dock for spending money that was earned |
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By Christine, and the prosecution says that money burned |
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A hole in Stephen's pocket, for expensive sins he yearned |
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It may be false, it may be true |
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But nothing has been proved |
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In the news a suicide note, in the court an empty space |
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Even Mandy's looking worried, Christine's pale and drawn |
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"Please, please me"'s number one |
|
(It's a scandal, it's a scandal, such a scandal) |
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Last night he wrote these words to his friend: |
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"Sorry about the mess" |
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"I'm guilty 'til proved innocent in the public eye and press" |
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The funeral's very quiet, because all his friends have fled |
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They may be false, they may be true |
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They've all got better things to do |
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They may be false, they may be true |
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But nothing has been proved, ooh |
|
Nothing |
|
Nothing has been proved |
|
No, nothing |
|
Nothing |
|
No, nothing |
|
Nothing |
|
No, nothing |
|
Nothing |
|
No, nothing |
|
Nothing |
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No, nothing |