The enemy of memory creeps nearer and the mists thicken for a while, then part again and roll away and sunshine gleams. The joy is like a long forgotten thing of love returned; But always the enemy is stalking and the fog not far away; But if it never hides me from all time and memories; Then I can live my life as I have always done; My reason is still with me, only my memory is challenged, And the enemy is held at bay.