These Blues Though it hurts to look at you see all the things I wanted to do, In you I've seen the fire burning not for me your graces like charms call me to mystery and you haven't said a word to me. The night is early; it's eleven forty five. These damn bugs gone eaten me alive. The rain is slowing like the beating of my heart The darkness of the night mirrors my thoughts I guess it's just these blues I've got.