“He’s my red adrenaline sky, but I just prayer he never paints me blue.”

You’re the baggage I wish I could claim.

We are the novel I keep reading.

The girl with the heart of gold, bled for you in ink.

And I don’t want to fall, unless its you I’m falling into.

The girl with the heart of gold, bled for you in ink.

She’s not your unicorn. She’s her own mother fucking dragon.

We are no different – we go back to anyone just to have something to do.

I heard you went to outer space, and while you dreamt – the planets and galaxies whispered my name.

She’s not your unicorn. She’s her own mother fucking dragon.

You and I flirt in ways they don’t know exist.

You look at me like supper, and I just want to be your last one this time.

You’re living the skyscraper life up high just so your ego can soar high.

You come back to ask me if I’m happy, and it shows me its you who isn’t.

We don’t belong to anyone. Half the time we don’t even belong to ourselves.

He says he wants to take me to Paris – but I see Amsterdam in his eyes.

Boys with skeletons in their closets – they make skeletons out of girls.

Those blue eyes that had stopped my heart the first time she looked at me found me in the crowd.” -Cage

I always loved Sam Cooke, because he seemed very versatile. He sang gospel, soul, blues, pop music

I consider myself a blue-collar actor, just chugging away.

President Bartlet: There’s a delegation of cardiologists having their pictures taken in the Blue Room. You wouldn’t think you could find a group of people more arrogant than the fifteen of us, but there they are, right upstairs in the Blue Room.

The blues is an art of ambiguity, an assertion of the irrepressibly human over all circumstances, whether created by others or by one’s own human failing.

I call myself a blues singer, but you ain’t never heard me call myself a blues guitar man.

The idea of a hypnotic riff as the prime mover of a piece of music has been around for a long time, whether you’re talking about the Delta blues or music from Middle Eastern and African cultures.

Elvis, he was unique. And he loved the blues, it was a pity he didn’t do more.