Mad about the boy.
I know it's stupid to be mad about the boy.
I'm so ashamed of it,
But must admit the sleepless nights I've had about the boy.
On the silver screen
He melts my foolish heart in every single scene.
Although I'm quite aware that here and there are traces
Of the cad about the boy.
Lord knows I'm not a fool, girl.
I really shouldn't care.
Lord knows I'm not a school girl
In the fury of her first affair.
Will it ever cloy?
This odd diversity of misery and joy.
I'm feeling quite insane and young again
And all because I'm mad about the boy.