Sneaky man.

His thin moustache gives him away.
Colourful expressions he can´t hide in daylight.
Beady eyes and envious sighs.
His detours from the truth poorly assembled.
To a quasi-conman does he resemble.
His invasive line of questioning...
That to the unlocked door meets.
 His answers are suspicious crooked lie detector heartbeats.
The sneaky man,
the motive bottled like a fine lotion.
Thin moustache twitching, dishonest lips in motion.
Hands turning a mild red.
A guilty glint in his eyes that dirty ambition left.
The colour and fibre of well woven lies upon his cheeks.