Are you saying sorry now  
to all the folk inside your head,
for all the rotten stuff you did
but it's too late now, 'cause they be dead?

Sorry, sorry, to Moma
sorry, sorry, to Papa too,
saying sorry to that old neighbour  
for all the rottenness I did to you.

And the brother and the sister
god, I dare not go there,
and how the hate of self rises
up is almost too much to bear...

And when I am gone, gone 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?