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 beautiful 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 beautiful be so laden down with dew Little BlueTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
