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. Johnny Mercer
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.
Days of wine and roses laugh and run away, Like a child at play. Johnny Mercer
Days of wine and roses laugh and run away, Like a child at play.