In the end will it matter that you've gone? In the end will I go on minding that you've gone? Will the night always seem so long, Is it really darkest before dawn? Will I see whiskey as a Mother In the end? In the end will I smash my brains with drinking Till I fall down on the floor, Will I hiccup and jabber, Saying things I never meant? Will I kiss and cry and wake to find A sordid stranger by my bed? Will the world shake its sensible head And say the words that have to be said: "She's got a problem." Every problem has a solution in the end And solutions must be final For help gets so unhelpful near the end. When I take my last ride Down the big dipper slide, Will I care, will it matter If the world should say: "She had a problem." She had a problem. She had a problem. In the end will it matter that you've gone? In the end will I go on minding that you've gone? Will the night always seem so long, Is it really darkest before dawn? Will I see whiskey as a Mother In the end?