(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