Harold Arlen, Johnny Mercer
That old black magic has me in its spell,
That old black magic that you weave so well.
Your icy fingers up and down my spine,
That same old witchcraft when your eyes meet mine.
The crazy tingle that I feel inside,
When that elevator starts its ride.
Down and down I go; round and round I go
In a spin, loving that spin that I'm in
Under that old black magic called love.
I could stay away, what can I do?
I hear your name and I'm aflame.
Aflame with such a desire
That only your kiss can put out the fire.
You're the lover I have waited for,
The mate that fate had me created for.
And down and down and down I go;
round and round and round I go
Yeah - that old black magic called love.