The Ghosts of Memphis

There is a certain sadness hovering over Memphis
Like a heavy grey rain cloud overflowing and ready to burst

It isn’t the melancholy trolley creaking along down the deserted old streets
It isn’t the tired old bluesmen who are playing funky but showing hungry

It is the ghosts of Memphis that keep it sad
It is the hollow specter trapped in a black and white photograph
It is the hope in the eyes of the innocents who fought so hard and won so little

The ghosts of Memphis press down on the old city’s spine
The ghosts of Memphis cling to the penumbra of the neon lights
The ghosts of Memphis won’t let us forget the things we need to learn from
The ghosts of Memphis won’t let go of a time they need to so they can begin to heal

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