I moved to town at twenty three
And launched myself in society
From a squat in Archway N19
Looking for a thrill.

I fell in love with ecstasy,
Which seemed to fuel my vanity.
I swore to write just poetry
And live upon a hill.

It wasn’t her my love it was me,
Looking for another way to see,
Looking for another place to be.

I sang my songs of Birmingham
How did you relate to them
Did you dig the proleterian way
I got it wrong.

I bet you never thought I’d dream of you
More than that I’d fall for you,
Walk just to bump into you like you bumped into this song.

It wasn’t her my love it was me,
Looking for another way to see,
Looking for another place to be.

And I’d betray my childhood,
Betray my class if I could,
For a moment truly understood,
A reason to believe.

In ornamental flower beds,
There in blooms the memory
Of all those who can’t come back to me,
The love we have to leave.

It wasn’t her my love it was me,
Looking for another way to see,
Looking for another place to be.

It wasn’t her my love it was me,
Looking for another way to see,
Looking for another place to be.