Som ein sumar med tusen juliar

Nei og nei, kan det finnast noko meir høgsumarleg enn Billie Holiday som syng You go to my head?

Nei.

Eller kanskje, det måtte vere Frank Sinatra som syng det same.

You go to my head
You linger like a haunting refrain
And I find you spinning round
In my brain
Like the bubbles in a glass of champagne
You go to my head

Like a sip of sparkling burgundy brew
And I find the very mention of you
Like the kicker in a julep or two
The thrill of the thought
That you might give a thought
To my plea, casts a spell over me

Still I say to myself
Get ahold of yourself
Can’t you see that it never can be
You go to my head with a smile
That makes my temperature rise
Like a summer with a thousand Julys
You intoxicate my soul with your eyes

Though I’m certain that this heart of mine
Hasn’t a ghost of a chance
In this crazy romance
You go to my head, you go to my head

Though I’m certain that this heart of mine
Hasn’t a ghost of a chance
In this crazy romance
You go to my head, you go to my head