I didn't know what day it was
When you walked into the room
I said hello unnoticed
You said goodbye too soon
Breezing through the clientele
Spinning yarns that were so lyrical
I really must confess right here
The attraction was purely physical
I took all those habits of yours
That in the beginning were hard to accept
Your fashion sense, beardsly prints
I put down to experience
The big bosomed lady with the dutch accent
Who tried to change my point of view
Her ad-lib lines were well rehearsed
But my heart cried out for you
You're in my heart, you're in my soul
You'll be my breath should I grow old
You are my lover, you're my best friend
You're in my soul
My love for you is immeasurable
My respect for you immense
You're ageless, timeless, lace and fineness
You're beauty and elegance
You're a rhapsody, a comedy
You're a symphony and a play
You're every love song ever written
But honey, what do you see in me?
You're in my heart, you're in my soul
You'll be my breath should I grow old
You are my lover, you're my best friend
You're in my soul
You're an essay in glamor
Please pardon the grammar
But you're every schoolboy's dream
You're Celtic, united, but baby I've decided
You're the best team I've ever seen
And there have been many affairs
Many times I've thought to leave
But I bite my lip and turn around
'Cause you're the warmest thing I've ever found
You're in my heart, you're in my soul
You'll be my breath should I grow old
You are my lover, you're my best friend
You're in my soul
You're in my heart, you're in my soul
You'll be my breath should I grow old
You are my lover, you're my best friend
You're in my soul
You're in my heart, you're in my soul
You'll be my breath should I grow old
You are my lover, you're my best friend
You're in my soul
It's Beardsley prints, as in Aubrey Beardsley, the 19th-century English Art Nouveau illustrator, who died at the age of 25 of tuberculosis.