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 Blue