I've got one fatal flaw: I'm a compulsive liar If I don't love you I will tell you anything And even if I love you I'll always be conniving I'll always be negotiating with the truth
And I can trace the habit To when I was eleven And I thought boys were pretty And I couldn't tell no one
It opens at a young age: That all-protective closet Just lock the door And settle in among the raincoats The longer you stay in there The more you'll get distorted The more contorted all your lies will have to be
Don't wait a moment longer: Stand up and turn the doorknob And I'll tell you my secret If you will tell me yours