I've Grown Accustomed To Her Face Lyrics - When I'm Alone I Cry - Marvin Gaye

Damn! Damn! 

Damn! Damn! 

I've grown accustomed to her face 

She almost makes the day begin 

I've grown accustomed to the tune 

That she whistles, night and noon 

Her smiles, her frowns, her ups, her downs 

Are second nature to me now 

Like breathing out and breathing in 

I was serenely independent 

And content before we met 

Surely I could always be that way again 

And yet, I've grown accustomed to her look 

Accustomed to her voice, accustomed to her face 

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Marry Freddy, what an infantile idea! 

What a heartless, wicked, brainless thing to do 

But she'll regret it 

It's doomed before they even take the vow 

I can see her now, Mrs. Freddy Eynsford Hill 

In a wretched little flat above a store 

I can see her now, not a penny in the till 

And a bill collector beating at the door 

She'll try to teach the things I taught her 

And end up selling flowers instead 

Begging for her bread and water 

While her husband has his breakfast in bed 

In a year or so, when she's prematurely gray 

And the blossom in her cheek has turned to chalk 

She'll come home and lo, he'll have upped and run away 

With a social-climbing heiress from New York 

Poor Eliza, how simply frightful, how humiliating, how delightful 

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How poignant it'll be on that inevitable night 

When she hammers on my door in tears and rags 

Miserable and lonely, repentant and contrite 

Will I take her in or hurl her to the walls 

Give her kindness or the treatment she deserves? 

Will I take her back or throw the baggage out? 

But I'm a most forgiving man 

The sort who never could, never would 

Take a position and staunchly never budge 

A most forgiving man 

But I shall never take take her back 

If she were even crawling on her knees 

Let her promise to atone, let her shiver, let her moan 

I'll slam the door and let the hell-cat freeze! 

Marry Freddy, ha! 

But I'm so used to hear her say 'Good morning' every day 

Her joys, her woes, her highs, her lows 

Are second nature to me now 

Like breathing out and breathing in 

I'm very grateful she's a woman 

And so easy to forget, rather like a habit 

One can always break 

And yet, I've grown accustomed to the trace 

Of something in the air, accustomed to her face