“Butterscotch Blues”
(Fletcher)
This time of year, she gets the butterscotch blues
Looking through the closet for yesterday’s shoes
Sweet sadness, a melancholy madness
Thats’s her butterscotch blues
Pancakes or panic, it’s up to her to choose
When the old fog rolls in, must she always lose?
Sweet sadness, a melancholy madness
It’s just her butterscotch blues
She pulls the past from her hat, and wears it like a bruise
But when she writes the heartache down, pain becomes her muse
Sweet sadness, a melancholy madness
That’s her butterscotch bluesmore