That feelin' goes stealin' down to my shoes
You ain't been blue; no, no, no.
You ain't been blue,
Till you've had that mood indigo.
There were things Jack needed to do on the outside. Editing. Scheduling. Meetings. Appointments. He knew he must do these things, yet he could not bring himself to touch the door she had touched. The door she had walked out of.
Always get that mood indigo,
Since my baby said goodbye.
She cares nothing for you.
'Cause there's nobody who cares about me,
I'm just a soul who's
bluer than blue can be.
He thought if he walked his disappointment off he'd be able to forget and move on--do what he ought to be doing instead of being hung up over some girl. But he'd found himself more (lonely) irritated than before, bypassed the option to socialize in the bar, and went up to his room.
That feelin' goes stealin' down to my shoes
While I sit and sigh, "Go 'long blues".
Now he couldn't pick himself up off the floor, where he sat, knees folded up to his chest, chin resting on his knees.
In the evenin' when lights are low,
I'm so lonesome I could cry.
After staying this way for a while, his stomach began to rumble a few times, pulling him out of his thoughts. His throat was becoming sticky and parched. He knew it was time to get up off the floor and lay down on the bed. The sheets and the pillows, he found, were not as comforting as he wished. They felt oddly like stone, and he could only shift uncomfortably until he stopped, sat up, and brought his fist slamming down on a pillow. He took his rage out on the pillow several times until his arm grew tired of those jabbing thrusts. Then he collapsed on the pillows and yelled, shouted (cried) things only the pillow could hear.
When I get that mood indigo,
I could lay me down and die.
You ain't been blue,
Till you've had that mood indigo.
There were things Jack needed to do on the outside. Editing. Scheduling. Meetings. Appointments. He knew he must do these things, yet he could not bring himself to touch the door she had touched. The door she had walked out of.
Always get that mood indigo,
Since my baby said goodbye.
She cares nothing for you.
'Cause there's nobody who cares about me,
I'm just a soul who's
bluer than blue can be.
He thought if he walked his disappointment off he'd be able to forget and move on--do what he ought to be doing instead of being hung up over some girl. But he'd found himself more (lonely) irritated than before, bypassed the option to socialize in the bar, and went up to his room.
That feelin' goes stealin' down to my shoes
While I sit and sigh, "Go 'long blues".
Now he couldn't pick himself up off the floor, where he sat, knees folded up to his chest, chin resting on his knees.
In the evenin' when lights are low,
I'm so lonesome I could cry.
After staying this way for a while, his stomach began to rumble a few times, pulling him out of his thoughts. His throat was becoming sticky and parched. He knew it was time to get up off the floor and lay down on the bed. The sheets and the pillows, he found, were not as comforting as he wished. They felt oddly like stone, and he could only shift uncomfortably until he stopped, sat up, and brought his fist slamming down on a pillow. He took his rage out on the pillow several times until his arm grew tired of those jabbing thrusts. Then he collapsed on the pillows and yelled, shouted (cried) things only the pillow could hear.
When I get that mood indigo,
I could lay me down and die.