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I've Grown Accustomed To Her Face
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Marvin Gaye
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Damn! Damn!
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Damn! Damn!
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I've grown accustomed to her face
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She almost makes the day begin
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I've grown accustomed to the tune
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That she whistles, night and noon
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Her smiles, her frowns, her ups, her downs
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Are second nature to me now
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Like breathing out and breathing in
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I was serenely independent
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And content before we met
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Surely I could always be that way again
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And yet, I've grown accustomed to her look
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Accustomed to her voice, accustomed to her face
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Marry Freddy, what an infantile idea!
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What a heartless, wicked, brainless thing to do
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But she'll regret it
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It's doomed before they even take the vow
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I can see her now, Mrs. Freddy Eynsford Hill
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In a wretched little flat above a store
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I can see her now, not a penny in the till
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And a bill collector beating at the door
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She'll try to teach the things I taught her
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And end up selling flowers instead
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Begging for her bread and water
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While her husband has his breakfast in bed
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In a year or so, when she's prematurely gray
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And the blossom in her cheek has turned to chalk
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She'll come home and lo, he'll have upped and run away
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With a social-climbing heiress from New York
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Poor Eliza, how simply frightful, how humiliating, how delightful
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How poignant it'll be on that inevitable night
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When she hammers on my door in tears and rags
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Miserable and lonely, repentant and contrite
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Will I take her in or hurl her to the walls
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Give her kindness or the treatment she deserves?
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Will I take her back or throw the baggage out?
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But I'm a most forgiving man
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The sort who never could, never would
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Take a position and staunchly never budge
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A most forgiving man
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But I shall never take take her back
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If she were even crawling on her knees
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Let her promise to atone, let her shiver, let her moan
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I'll slam the door and let the hell-cat freeze!
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Marry Freddy, ha!
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But I'm so used to hear her say 'Good morning' every day
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Her joys, her woes, her highs, her lows
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Are second nature to me now
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Like breathing out and breathing in
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I'm very grateful she's a woman
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And so easy to forget, rather like a habit
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One can always break
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And yet, I've grown accustomed to the trace
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Of something in the air, accustomed to her face
Rex Harrison — I've Grown Accustomed To ...
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