I found myself in Paris
She sat in mournful silence
By midnight came an outburst
So much louder than a cloudburst

She said: Make-up is a lie
All make-up, make-up is a lie
All make-up, make-up is a lie
All make-up is a lie

I soon returned to Paris
To the garret of the poet
In her mind of blank reclusion
Until the same explosion

Make-up is a lie
All make-up, all make-up is a lie
Oh make-up, make-up is a lie
All make-up is a lie

Ten years passed in boredom
I made my way to Paris
To stand before her gravestone
I read the words in granite

(One, two, three, four, five)

Make-up is lie
All make-up, make-up is a lie
Make-up is a lie
Make-up is a lie
All make-up is a lie

Make-up is lie
All make-up, make-up is a lie
Make-up is a lie
Make-up is a lie
All make-up is a lie