Ranelle told me about the café being torn down in Mahnomen, MN

Today's the day they gonna tear the building down.
The City Council wants no eyesores in this run-down town,
So they hired out a contractor to make it nice n clean,
But the old folks standing on the sidewalk they say that's it's obscene.
To tear down the café where they'd coffee'd every day,
Ate pancakes, sausage, hot roast beef, but never a soufflé.
They sat there in the wooden booths, with names from years gone by,
N they'd drink their coffee strong n black, n tell memories of their lives.

Memories are the history for dreams.
If you don't keep your memories live, well your dreams will die it seems;
‘Cause memories are the history for dreams.

The dozer starts to push the walls right in.
An old man looks across the street n pulls down on his brim.
He doesn't want his friends to see the tears come to his eyes,
He heard it's progress being made, but still it makes him cry;
N he thinks back to the times he spent with friends both gone n here n
He thinks back to the memories made, he thinks back many years,
He stands up straight, his eyes shine bright, just like a crystal ball;
N he vows the memories won't be lost with the dozin' of the walls.

Memories are the history for dreams.
Ya can't doze ‘em down, n load ‘em up, ya can't haul ‘em out of town.
Yah, memories are the history for dreams.

It's dark now but the old man stands alone.
Staring at the level ground, he's chilled down to his bone.
To his eyes the tears return and he makes a final cry.
His chin drops down upon his chest , but his mind still questions why.
He turns his head n through his tears he sees neon down the block,
Sign says open every day n all around the clock; so he
Turns his back, but not his mind and slowly limps away,
On down the street he slowly walks into a new café.

Memories are the history for dreams.
If you don't make new memories, then your dreams will die it seems.
‘Cause memories are the history for dreams.