(I. Mills-D. Ellington-I. Gordon)
When you hear a song in blue,
Like a flower crying for the dew,
That was my heart serenading you,
My prelude to a kiss.
When you hear a song that grows,
From my tender, sentimental woes,
That was my heart trying to compose,
A prelude to a kiss.
Though it's just a simple melody,
With nothing fancy, nothing much,
You could turn it to a symphony,
A Schubert tune with a Gershwin touch.
Oh, how my love song gently cries,
For the tenderness within your eyes.
My love is a prelude that never dies,
My prelude to a kiss.
With nothing fancy, nothing much,
A Schubert tune with a Gershwin touch.
Oh, oh, how my love song gently gently,
gently cries,
For the tenderness within your eyes.
My love is a prelude that never, never,
Never, never dies,
My prelude to a kiss.
