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...