Mandy's in the papers, 'cause she tried to go to Spain

She'll soon be in the dock, and in the papers once again

Vicki's got her story about the mirror and the cane

It may be false, it may be true

But nothing has been proved



Stephen's in his dressing-gown now, breakfasting alone

Too sick to eat, he's on his feet and to the telephone

The police inspector soothes him with his sympathetic tone

It may be false, it may be true

But nothing has been proved



In the House a resignation, guilty faces everyone

Christine's fallen out with Lucky, Johnny's got a gun

"Please, please me"'s number one



(It's a scandal, it's a scandal, such a scandal)



Now Stephen's in the dock for spending money that was earned

By Christine, and the prosecution says that money burned

A hole in Stephen's pocket, for expensive sins he yearned

It may be false, it may be true

But nothing has been proved



In the news a suicide note, in the court an empty space

Even Mandy's looking worried, Christine's pale and drawn

"Please, please me"'s number one



(It's a scandal, it's a scandal, such a scandal)



Last night he wrote these words to his friend:

"Sorry about the mess"

"I'm guilty 'til proved innocent in the public eye and press"

The funeral's very quiet, because all his friends have fled

They may be false, they may be true

They've all got better things to do

They may be false, they may be true

But nothing has been proved, ooh

Nothing

Nothing has been proved

No, nothing

Nothing

No, nothing

Nothing

No, nothing

Nothing

No, nothing

Nothing

No, nothing