Mad about the boy,
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I know it¡¯s stupid to be mad about the boy,
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I¡¯m so ashamed of it, but must admit
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The sleepless nights I¡¯ve had about the boy.
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On the silver screen,
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He melts my foolish heart in ev¡¯ry single scene,
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Although I¡¯m quite aware that here and there,
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Are traces of a cad about the boy.
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Lord knows I¡¯m not a fool girl,
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I really shouldn¡¯t care.
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Lord knows I¡¯m not a schoolgirl,
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In the flurry of her first affair.
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Will it ever cloy?
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This odd diversity of misery and joy.
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I¡¯m feeling quite insane and young again
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And all because I¡¯m mad about the boy.
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Mad About The Boy
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| Julie London |
