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