Text: Frank Sinatra. Thanks For The Memory.
Thanks for the memory
Of things I can't forget, journeys on a jet
Our wond'rous week in Martinique and Vegas and roulette
How lucky I was
And thanks for the memory
Of summers by the sea, dawn in Waikiki
We had a pad in London but we didn't stop for tea
How cozy it was
Now since our breakup I wake up
Alone on a gray morning-after
I long for the sound of your laughter
And then I see the laugh's on me
But, thanks for the memory
Of every touch a thrill, I've been through the mill
I've lived a lot and learned a lot, you loved me not and still
I miss you so much
Thanks for the memory
Of how we used to jog even in a fog
That barbecue in Malibu, away from all the smog
How rainy it was
Thanks for the memory
Of letters I destroyed, books that we enjoyed
Tonight the way things look, I need a book by Sigmund Freud
How brainy he was
Gone are those evenings on Broadway
Together we'd go to a great show
But now I begin with the Late Show
And wish that you were watching, too
I know it's a fallacy
That grown men never cry, baby, that's a lie
We had our bed of roses, but forgot that roses die
And thank you so much
Of things I can't forget, journeys on a jet
Our wond'rous week in Martinique and Vegas and roulette
How lucky I was
And thanks for the memory
Of summers by the sea, dawn in Waikiki
We had a pad in London but we didn't stop for tea
How cozy it was
Now since our breakup I wake up
Alone on a gray morning-after
I long for the sound of your laughter
And then I see the laugh's on me
But, thanks for the memory
Of every touch a thrill, I've been through the mill
I've lived a lot and learned a lot, you loved me not and still
I miss you so much
Thanks for the memory
Of how we used to jog even in a fog
That barbecue in Malibu, away from all the smog
How rainy it was
Thanks for the memory
Of letters I destroyed, books that we enjoyed
Tonight the way things look, I need a book by Sigmund Freud
How brainy he was
Gone are those evenings on Broadway
Together we'd go to a great show
But now I begin with the Late Show
And wish that you were watching, too
I know it's a fallacy
That grown men never cry, baby, that's a lie
We had our bed of roses, but forgot that roses die
And thank you so much
Sinatra, Frank
Sinatra, Frank
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