On and on, relentless
In the slimmest of downbeat moments
Her august remains remain true to doubt
It is of course an anniversary, of sorts
A night of immaculate conception
Brought on by dance and determination
He wasn't why we parted, more why we started
To move from the cast aways dreams
To the schemes for abject survival
Twenty years on, in a motorway cafe
On of the fine rim of daylight despondency
It is the deep dark bowl of love in which I swim
