The Blues Is Just A Bad Dream
A tree grows in my back yard, it only grows at night.
Its branches they're all twisted, its leaves are afraid of light.
They say the blues is just a bad dream, they say it lives upside your head.
But when it's lonely in the morning, you're bound to wish that you was lying dead.
There's winds out on the ocean, they're blowing just as they choose.
But then winds ain't got no emotion, baby, they don't know the blues.
They say the blues is just a bad dream, they say it lives upside your head, mmmm.
But when it's lone, lonely in the morning you're bound to wish that you was lying dead.
My mind is rambling and rambling just like some rolling stone, no,
since that nightmare's come to stay with me, baby, my thoughts just don't belong.
They say the blues is just a bad dream, they say it lives upside your head.
But when they visit you around midnight, you're bound to wish that you were lying dead.
El Blues Es Solo Una Pesadilla
Un árbol crece en mi patio trasero, solo crece de noche.
Sus ramas están todas retorcidas, sus hojas le temen a la luz.
Dicen que el blues es solo una pesadilla, dicen que vive dentro de tu cabeza al revés.
Pero cuando estás solo por la mañana, desearás estar muerto.
Hay vientos en el océano, soplan como les place.
Pero esos vientos no tienen emoción, nena, no conocen el blues.
Dicen que el blues es solo una pesadilla, dicen que vive dentro de tu cabeza al revés, mmmm.
Pero cuando estás solo, solitario por la mañana, desearás estar muerto.
Mi mente divaga y divaga como una piedra rodante, no,
desde que esa pesadilla se quedó conmigo, nena, mis pensamientos simplemente no encajan.
Dicen que el blues es solo una pesadilla, dicen que vive dentro de tu cabeza al revés.
Pero cuando te visitan a medianoche, desearás estar muerto.
Escrita por: James Taylor