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 circ**stance 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