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James Darren — That Old Black Magic

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
The same old tingle that I feel inside
When that elevator starts its ride
Down and down I go, round and round I go
Like a leaf that’s caught in the tide
I should stay away but what can I do
I hear your name, and I’m aflame

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