|
That old black magic has me in its spell
|
That old black magic that you weave so well
|
Icy fingers up
|
and down my spine
|
The same old witchcraft when your eyes meet mine
|
|
The same old tingle that I feel
|
inside
|
When that elevator starts its ride
|
Down and down I go, round and round I go
|
Like a leaf that's
|
caught in the tide
|
|
I should stay away but what can I do
|
I hear your name, and I'm aflame
|
Aflame with
|
such a burning desire
|
That only your kiss can put out the fire
|
|
You are the lover that I've waited for
|
|
The mate that fate had me created for
|
And every time your lips meet mine
|
|
Baby down and down I go,
|
all around I go
|
In a spin, loving the spin that I'm in
|
Under that old black magic called love
|
|
|
|
-----------------
|
That Old Black Magic
|
| Harold Arlen |
