Charles Aznavour And In My Chair

He, he observes you from where he sits
You, it unnerves you, you lose your wits
He, he ignites you with eyes aflame
You, it excites you, you like the game

And I, in my chair, although I hardly speak
I notice each innuendo
And I, in my chair, I'm stricken with fear
At seeing the end so near

He, out to win you, he woos with style
You, you continue to coyly smile
He, with his quarry on hunting ground
You, only sorry that I'm around

And I, in my chair, although I hardly speak
I see just how well he's doing
And I, in my chair, I'm trying to hide
The dread that I hold inside

He, his eyes flatter, your glances touch
You, now you chatter a bit too much
He, like a gypsy, he serenades
You, you grow tipsy, your laugh cascades

And I, in my chair, although I hardly speak
My heart's on the verge of crying
And I, in my chair, my heart understands
Love is now changing hands

No, no, it's nothing, a little headache only
Maybe I had one too many?
Well, we'd better go home now
Yes, this was a beautiful evening
Indeed, a beautiful evening