I want to be loved like the 1920’s. 

I want to be loved like flourishing flapper dresses, 

gleaming, scarlet lips, and finger waves.  

I want to be loved like moving picture magic.  

Hold me in your arms like I’m Louise Brooks, 

Just like in silent films… 

We don’t need words to form passion, 

just you and me inside your Model T.  

 I want to be loved like the 1920’s. 

 I want to be loved like underground speakeasies. 

Drink me in like I’m an Old Fashioned. 

Like concealed flasks filled  

to fuel the night’s adventures. 

We’ll hide our desires under our tweed coats 

just like the bootleggers.     

I want to be loved like the 1920’s. 

I want to be the Daisy to your Gatsby. 

Look at me with anxious eyes, 

Fall deeper in love every minute. 

Let me be your guiding green light. 

I want to be loved like the 1920’s.  

I want to be loved like Jazz music.  

Sing to me sweetly the words of Louis Armstrong, 

Because in your arms I think to myself, 

What a wonderful world. 

Let life be an intoxicating dance party  

As we foxtrot in time.  

I want to be loved like the 1920’s. 

I want to be loved like Wall Street. 

Make me an ignorant fool, teach me to forget 

how to behave with our newfangled freedom. 

And when it all comes crashing down, 

We’ll still have our memories.  

I want to be loved like the 1920’s.  

Preserve me in sepia tones and  

paint with the glaze of an archaic era 

In a silk Charelston negligee.  

And I want to be loved like the 1920’s. 

Never wanting to stop the party, 

Never wanting to slow the pace.