I have to make a story to explain why I'm not home
With political correctness so my wife will not know
I'm out with an ex of mine, she has a sexy smile
She has everything my wife don't have, money, grace and style

But she, thought I'd be home at eight
And she thinks I'm in the office
And she thinks I'm working late
And she thinks she's my soul mate
Oh, she thinks it's going great
Oh, I'll get my story straight
Made up story

I take her to the pictures cos we couldn't find a show
We end up downtown for wine and beer, then go home and do some blow
We'll stay up all night and party and my god does she look hot
Oh, I'm surely feeling happy but my wife can smell a plot

And now, I think she's began to doubt
And she's gone and phoned the office
And she knows that I've gone out
And when I get home she'll shout
Oh, she'll stare at me and pout
Oh, I'll once again just spout
(A) Made up story

I stagger in at half past three, my wife looks pretty mad
So I spin my tale and try to lie, and I think I'm not too bad
But I must have made a blunder or confused it in my head
My poor story's shot down in flames and I'm banished from our bed

And now, I'm standing in the street
And my stuff is on the pavement
And she's calling me a cheat
And she thinks I'm a deadbeat
Oh, I wasn't too discrete
Oh, I failed in my deceit
Made up story