there's a cold, cold wind coming from the sea,
from sunken dreams, from eternity.
Now my window is open to clouded night,
i can see the ghosts of the city lights.
The ghost of love smoked my cigarretts
and he burned the pillows of all empty beds.

I've got this wrong kind blues,
i've got this dark kind of blues:
love and pain washed by the rain,
me and you trapped in the blue,
and this cold wind,
and this cold wind.

He showed me the pictures of what's bound to fade
i recognized all the plans i had made.
When he disappeared in the misty night
he took all the perfumes of my early smiles.

I've got this wrong kind blues,
i've got this dark kind of blues:
love and pain washed by the rain,
me and you trapped in the blue,
and this cold wind,
and this cold wind.