railroad tracks and river bends an unexpected call from a long lost friend the bittersweet sadness when the story ends eighth notes from a saxophone after a long trip and im heading home the quiet morning when i wake alone that kind of blue i cant remember but it makes me swear that i once knew that kind of blue that sings so soulful that old melody that gospel tune that kind of blue chagall windows at the institute chicory flowers sticking out of my boots playing an old piano on a rainy afternoon the sound of the breeze as it blows the faint hint of sandalwood and rose im laughing and im crying because she knows that kind of blue i cant hold on to but it makes me feel im almost there that kind of blue like the darkest midnight i cant see a thing but im not scared that kind of blue that kind of blue that speaks of freedom and calls me out from my hiding place that kind of blue that asks for nothing just lays me down kisses my face that kind of blue these six strings show me when shes softly sleeping in the next room that kind of blue that lets her hold me then lets me go to watch her bloom that kind of blue that kind of blue