Lyrics:

(HeatonRotheray) 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