Remember when I said me Dad was shot in the hip ?
Lies, lies, lies.
And then there was the time me Mum went down with her ship.
Lies, lies, lies.
Those tales about me Gran: the one who throws the javelin,
The niece who lost her chin and cannot play the violin;
The book me Auntie wrote about her nights with Errol Flynn,
All lies, nothing but lies. Your house in St. Tropez, left by your Aunt Rosalind?
Lies, lies, lies. The day you took off work to re-write "Gone With The Wind"?
Lies, lies, all lies. That bridge me sister bombed the minute that our boys had crossed,
The night Mum smoked in bed when all her sheets and limbs were lost.
The time that Shostakovich said that I could call him Shost.
All lies, nothing but lies.
You said you'd stay with me until this round world was flat.
Lies, lies, lies,
You know I'll stay with you for much, much longer than that.
Lies, lies, all lies.
Why can't you speak the truth ? Is it too hard for you to do ?
All right, what would you say if I said that I hated you,
And if I boiled your bones I'm sure they'd taste like orange stew ?
All lies, nothing but lies.
Yes, lies, glorious lies.

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