Max Ferguson, Esther Canata - Black Magic Blonde Lyrics

There are boats on the water. There are children on the sand
There is promise in her smile. There are miracles in her hand
And the busboys and the waiters and the fishermen too
Long to catch, that face with a view
And she brings you your soup, your salad, and your wine
And you want so much more, but you know she'd decline
And she's casting, her spell, with the wave of her wand
This angel, this devil, this black magic blonde. This black magic blonde
And you're jealous of the sun, that caresses her hair
And you feel like a voyeur, but you can't help but stare
The older men curse, the wives at their side
She comes like a breeze, but leaves with the tide
And she brings, to the tourists, a moment of bliss
A second of pleasure, like a rainy night's kiss
And she's casting, her spell, with the wave of her wand
This angel, this devil, this black magic blonde. This black magic blonde
And your cynicism is worn, like some old corduroy
Vanquished, and foiled, by her conquering joy
And she waits in the wings of fantasy's stage
But you're stuck in the middle, of reality's cage
And you would so like to stay, but there are things you must do
There are trains to catch, and you're just passing through
And she's casting, her spell, with the wave of her wand
This angel, this devil, this black magic blonde. This black magic blonde
This black magic blonde. This black magic
This black magic blonde. This black magic
This black magic blonde. This black magic
This black magic blonde. This black magic blonde. This black magic blonde
This black magic blonde. This black magic blonde. This black magic blonde
This black magic blonde. This black magic blonde. This black magic blonde
This black magic blonde

There are boats on the water. There are children on the sand
There is promise in her smile. There are miracles in her hand
And the busboys and the waiters and the fishermen too
Long to catch, that face with a view
And she brings you your soup, your salad, and your wine
And you want so much more, but you know she'd decline
And she's casting, her spell, with the wave of her wand
This angel, this devil, this black magic blonde. This black magic blonde
And you're jealous of the sun, that caresses her hair
And you feel like a voyeur, but you can't help but stare
The older men curse, the wives at their side
She comes like a breeze, but leaves with the tide
And she brings, to the tourists, a moment of bliss
A second of pleasure, like a rainy night's kiss
And she's casting, her spell, with the wave of her wand
This angel, this devil, this black magic blonde. This black magic blonde
And your cynicism is worn, like some old corduroy
Vanquished, and foiled, by her conquering joy
And she waits in the wings of fantasy's stage
But you're stuck in the middle, of reality's cage
And you would so like to stay, but there are things you must do
There are trains to catch, and you're just passing through
And she's casting, her spell, with the wave of her wand
This angel, this devil, this black magic blonde. This black magic blonde
This black magic blonde. This black magic
This black magic blonde. This black magic
This black magic blonde. This black magic
This black magic blonde. This black magic blonde. This black magic blonde
This black magic blonde. This black magic blonde. This black magic blonde
This black magic blonde. This black magic blonde. This black magic blonde
This black magic blonde