It’s the memory of you walkingnIt’s your smile that gets menWhen I’m way down therennIt’s the memory of you bathednIn the milk of rhyme nThat gets me when I’m way down herennIt’s the memorynOf you buying what you shouldn’t buynThat gets me when I’m way down herennIt’s the memory of you cryingnWhen you couldn’t sleepnThat kills menWhen I’m way down heren