(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

• I Hate You
• I Think The Answer's Yes
• I've Come for My Award
• Let Love Speak up Itself
• Lips
• Little Blue
• Mother's Pride
• My Book
• Should've Kept My Eyes Shut
• The Rising of Grafton Street
• Tonight I Fancy Myself