Every Third Monday

He drives to Charlotte, every third Monday, and checks into the Twelve Oaks Motel.
He calls it business, and he calls the number of a woman he knows all too well.

Every third Monday when his wife packs his suitcase, he looks her straight in the eye.
Every third Monday he finds a new way to tell her that same old lie.

Back home in Atlanta, in a cafe for lovers, she slips off her gold wedding ring.
To a stranger in a back booth, she whispers I`d love to.
Two can play at this old cheatin` game.

Every third Monday, she packs his suitcase, she looks him straight in the eye.
Every third Monday, she finds a new way to tell him that same old lie.
Every third Monday, he finds a new way to tell her that same old lie.