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