The sun never asks the earth,
If she loves him less or more;
There’s no bargain to be made;
There lies no exit door;

The sea has no vows broken,
As each wave pulls from the shore;
She never questions her love,
Nor asks, if the land loves her more.

And I should have known better,
Before love made me a whore;
Maybe, before I lose to life,
I could have charged it a bit more.