Marilyn Monroe

That old black magic has me in its spell,
that old black magic that you weave so well.
Those icy fingers up and down my spine,
the same old witchcraft when your eyes meet mine,
the same old tingle that I feel inside,
and then that elevator starts its ride,
and, baby, down and down I go,
round and round I go,
like a leaf that's caught in a tide.
I shoud stay away but what can I do?
A hear your name and I'm a flame,