(heaton/rotheray)
You can't write a novel from a briefcase
You can write a poem from a trench
You can dream a dream from a to b
But you can't catch a bus from a bench
You don't back a horse called striding snail
You don't name your boat titanic ii
So why when i see your happy smiling face
Do i always end up singing little blue
Little blue, how do you do
Your smile looks like heaven
But your eyes hold a storm about to brew
Little blue
How can a flower so pretty
Be so laden down with dew
Little blue
How can a flower so pretty
Be so laden down with dew
Little blue
You can't build a brewery on a cemetery
You can build a pub on a church
And people fall quicker than buildings do
You have to decide what comes first
You don't call a plane the flying roman
'cause the romans always walked and never flew
So why when i see your happy smiling face
Do i always end up singing little blue
Little blue, how do you do
Your smile looks like heaven
But your eyes hold a storm about to brew
Little blue
How can a flower so pretty
Be so laden down with dew
Little blue
Well bukowski wrote a story from a barstool
And keats from the top of a hill
So i'm going to save my special song for you
From a grave where it's quiet and it's chill
'cause there's a queue of clouds assembled
On the horizon of your smile
When most think that you're holding back
I know you're holding bile
Little blue, how do you do
Your smile looks like heaven
But your eyes hold a storm about to brew
Little blue
How can a flower so pretty
Be so laden down with dew
Little blue
How can a flower so pretty
Be so laden down with dew
Little blue