Writer(s): Irving Berlin
(from the CDs Unheard, Vols. 1 & 2: 1942-1946)
You keep coming back like a song, a song that keeps saying ‘remember,’
The sweet used-to-be that was once you-and-me keeps coming back like an old melody.
The perfume of roses in May returns to my room in December,
From out of the past where forgotten things belong,
You keep coming back like a song.