Who cares?

Maybe the day I die

I’ll be right.

Maybe fools’ ll say

I was not that bad

Was not that witch

Or maybe a good bitch,

At the end.

Who cares?

Sure the day I die,

Some will dislike

The colour of the flowers.

The hearse will be dirty,

As my car’s always been;

The company will be honest,

As my friends have always been;

Nothing too conventional,

As my life has always been.

Who cares?

As I’ll lay, dead,

Be sure my body will stink

As you’ve always thought,

Only for you, fools

To make you talk more and more

About me, alive or dead.

Who cares?

My shroud won’t be ironed

And dogs will pray, sincerely.

So your gossips won’t go very far away

From your bitter mouths.

Who cares?

Maybe you were right:

I didn’t deserve what I got

I couldn’t afford the love I received,

Nor the help

Who knows?

Nothing but the pain you gave me.

Who cares?

You didn’t like the way I made my bed

You hated the way I lost my head

You disliked my all life and choices,

My red hair and voices.

Who cares?

I don’t wish you any harm

Nor any good,

I only wish my sons

Will feel all my love.

I only wish you really disliked me

Cose be loved by fools

It’s maybe worse

Than be hated.

Who cares?