Incurably Romantic

I'm susceptible to stars in the skies, I'm incurably romantic, If they're told to me all covered with sighs, The wildest of lies seems true. Each time a lovebird sings, I have no defenses, My heart is off on wings Along with my senses. I'm a set-up for the moon when it's bright, I'm incurably romantic. And I shouldn't be allowed out at night, With anyone quite like you. But, oh! Your arms are nice, And it would be awfully nice If you turned out to be starry-eyed like me, And incurably romantic too.