“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