I pack my bags then off i go, amongst the april showers,
It's all eventual, eventual you know.
I'll have myself a little moment to myself so i can think,
Cos i owe nothing to no-one, nothing to no-one you know.
It's true.
I wrote my letter in a bitter way, so glad i ripped it up,
Cos it means nothing to no-one, nothing to no-one i know.I'm better off leaving in a quiet way so i don't spoil what's left,
Cos this means nothing to no-one, nothing to no-one i know.
It's true.