Blueday Rising

Are you saying sorry now  
to all the folk inside your head,  
for all the rotten stuff you did  
but it too late now, 'cause they be dead?  
 
Sorry, sorry, to my mother  
sorry, sorry, to Papa too,  
saying sorry to that old neighbour  
for all the rottenness inside you.  
 
And the brother and the sister  
god, I dare not go there,  
and how the hate of self rising
up is almost too much to bear...  
 
And when I am gone, gone so far away  
from all the rotten things I've said and done,  
will folk say sorry to me in their heads  
and will I hear not even one?