Constantly amazed by the blades of the fan on the ceiling,
those clever little glances she gives me can't help but be appealing.
She loves to ride into town with the top down,
feel that warm breeze on her gentle skin.
She is my next of kin.
I see a little more of me everyday.
I catch a little more mustache turning grey.
Your mother is the only other woman for me.
Little Miss Magic, what you gonna be?
Sometimes I catch her dreaming and I wonder where that little mind meanders.
Is she strolling along the shore, or cruising over the broad Savannah?
I know someday she'll learn to make up her own rhymes.
Someday, she's gonna learn how to fly.
Oh, that I won't deny.
I catch a little more dialogue coming my way.
I see those big brown eyes just starting to look astray.
Your mother's still the only other woman for me.
Yeah, She loves to ride into town with the top down,
One day, she's gonna learn how to fly.
Little Miss Magic, just can't wait to see.
It's raining, it's pouring, your old man is snoring.
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