It doesn’t matter does it?
If my feet are tired and I can no longer dance
It couldn’t matter, could it?
That we no longer waltz together on the moors whilst the moon yawns down upon us
It wouldn’t matter, would it?
If my bones are pressed deep into the dirt at the foot of your bed, cold and damp in August
It shouldn’t matter, should it?
That we lost our souls that day the rain came, when we buried each other up to our necks in lust
It didn’t matter, did it?
It never did