Deny, Deny, Deny

That wasn't me at a quarter to three

Back in our backyard

Tearing up the roses

And the home grown tomatoes in my new car

And those bottles in the driveway

And the bottles in the hall

Well I don't know where they came from

It must be burglars in the neighborhood

I sure hope they catch those bums



I know you've got your own version of the truth

There's only three things left now that I can do

Deny, deny, deny



Well I was allegedly dropped by

a truck stop waitress at our front door

Now who you gonna believe your sweet lovin' daddy

Or those lying eyes of yours

That lipstick on my collar

That you found this morning

Well that's not lipstick at all

I was just in a hurry to get back to you honey

Had myself a little fall



Oh yeah, you've got your own version of the truth

There's only three things left now that I can do

Deny, deny, deny



--- Instrumental ---



Oh please don't answer the phone

Hey ain't it great being home and alone like this

That cigarette voice asking for her big boy

Why should I know who that is

Yeah, I know it looks bad but

You're lookin' at a victim of a circumstance or two

Oh, what is it now seems

Like nothing I do ever pleases you



I know you've got your own version of the truth

There's only three things left now I can do

Deny, deny, deny



Oh, Deny, deny, deny...