The song lyrics were written by the band Van Halen, as they were asked to write a song for the 1979 movie "Over the Edge" starring Matt Dillon. The movie (and the lyrics, although more obliquely) are about bored, rebellious youth with nothing better to do than get into trouble. If you see the movie, these lyrics will make more sense. It's a great movie if you grew up in the 70s/80s you'll definitely remember some of these characters from your own life. Fun fact, after writing the song, Van Halen decided not to let the movie use it.
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.
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 grey,
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!
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 day,
"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.
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.
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 grey,
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!
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 day,
"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.
Lyrics submitted by SongMeanings
I've Grown Accustomed to His Face Lyrics as written by Frederick Loewe Alan Jay Lerner
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Royalty Network, Capitol CMG Publishing, Integrity Music, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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