Deny, Deny, Deny

That wasn't me at a quarter to three Back in our backyard Tearin' up the roses and the home grown tomatoes In my new car 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 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 lyin' eyes of yours That lipstick on my collar, that you found this mornin' 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 I can do Deny, deny, deny Oh, please don't answer the phone Hey, ain't it great bein' 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 nothin' 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