I fell in love with a man out of a black and white movie,
With his pretty voice,
His black eyes and white tie,
He charmed me.
At the record store,
Browsing out vinyls,
In his stripped suit,
He reminded me of an old motel room,
That had seen love a thousand times,
In a thousand phases,
His fingertips calloused,
As if he spent days on a piano perfecting a melody.
He looked like someone,
Who knew how to define words,
How to make them his own,
A cigarette between his lips,
And the love between the shop alleys,
It seemed as if he had done it all.
He tips his hat at any musician in the street,
He bought movie tickets every Saturday night,
And performed at a club,
With beauty and sheer desire,
It was an art,
For him to be himself and me loving him.