. . Is not news
It is not news
. . It is not Blues.
To say I think of you
. . Is just my way
. . . It is my day
It is so me it's now cliche.
I think of you when skies turns blue
When rain comes down
When suns comes out.
I think of you when seas turn green
When lightning crashes
When babies shout.
To say I think of you
. . Cannot be news
. . . No tongues wag
. . . No bells ring out
. . No history books ink
No scribes stop and think.
To say I think of you
. . That's just my way
. . . The way I play
. . . It makes my day
Thoughts of you light my way.
May 6, 2010
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