Brooks & Dunn
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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...


Mirror lyrics:

Oh, Deny, deny, deny...

Deny, deny, deny
There's only three things left now I can do
I know you've got your own version of the truth

Like nothing I do ever pleases you
Oh, what is it now seems
You're lookin' at a victim of a circumstance or two
Yeah, I know it looks bad but
Why should I know who that is
That cigarette voice asking for her big boy
Hey ain't it great being home and alone like this
Oh please don't answer the phone

--- Instrumental ---

Deny, deny, deny
There's only three things left now that I can do
Oh yeah, you've got your own version of the truth

Had myself a little fall
I was just in a hurry to get back to you honey
Well that's not lipstick at all
That you found this morning
That lipstick on my collar
Or those lying eyes of yours
Now who you gonna believe your sweet lovin' daddy
a truck stop waitress at our front door
Well I was allegedly dropped by

Deny, deny, deny
There's only three things left now that I can do
I know you've got your own version of the truth

I sure hope they catch those bums
It must be burglars in the neighborhood
Well I don't know where they came from
And the bottles in the hall
And those bottles in the driveway
And the home grown tomatoes in my new car
Tearing up the roses
Back in our backyard
That wasn't me at a quarter to three


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