Are you somebody that I used to know,
Someone I met in one of my past lives?
The little signs of recognition grow.
I search inside for something that survives.
But little bits of blank are closing in,
There's pieces of my brain now out of reach,
Like someone's shoved my mem'ries in a bin
Or dipped them one by one in bowls of bleach.
And every one I meet is new each day,
And I don't know the rooms in which I wake.
As slowly, slow these pictures fade away,
And not a single one can I remake.
So did I know you in another life?
What do you mean when you say you're my wife?
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