| The lights go out each evening at eleven
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| And up and down our block there’s not a sound
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| I close my eyes and search for peaceful slumber
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| And just then the local memory comes around
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| Piles of blues against the door
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| To make sure sleep will come no more
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| He’s the hardest working memory in this town
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| Turns out happiness again
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| And then lets loneliness back in
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| And each night the local memory comes around
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| Each day I say tonight I may escape him
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| I pretend I’m happy and never even a frown
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| But at night I close my eyes and pray sleep finds me
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| But again the local memory comes around
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| Rids the house of all good news
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| Then sets out my crying shoes
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| What a faithful memory never lets me down
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| We’re both up till light of day
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| Chasing happiness away
|
| And each night the local memory comes around
|
| Piles of blues against the door
|
| To make sure sleep will come no more
|
| It’s the hardest working memory in this town
|
| Turns out happiness again
|
| And then lets loneliness back in
|
| And each night the local memory comes around
|
| Yeah each night the local memory comes around |