Yes, the story is over but it was suggested to me that Jackson have one last song during the credits where somehow he can sing well again. After my school's production of My Fair Lady I decided to use the song "I've grown accustomed to her face." Remember: I don't own Red Eye or any of the songs I've used!
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 I
saw her;
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.
Stab me! What an infantile idea. What a
heartless,
wicked, brainless thing to do. But she'll regret,
she'll
regret it. The act should have been doomed to fail
And yet she managed to do it
She stabbed me and saved the day
I lost my fact driven way
And she won our little game
She's
learned from what I've taught her,
and only got stronger
I
underestimated her weak alto
and now I lost a job
yet it still
puzzles me
That for all the time I followed her
She
still managed to shock me!
I discovered her will, her secret
Poor
Lisa. How simply frightful!
How humiliating! How delightful!
But
surely these new events have put a strain on her
We have a strange relationship you know
And
if we ever meet again
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, ever would,
Take a position and staunchly
never budge.
A most forgiving man.
But, I shall never 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!
But I'm so used to
Stalking
her ev'ry 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.
