I'm...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 that cared about the boy.
Oh, lord knows I'm not a fool girl.
I really shouldn't care.
Lord knows I'm not a schoolgirl
in the flurry 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.
I'm feeling quite insane
and young again and all
because I'm mad about the boy.