They can call me a spend thrift, a hot head, a capricious, spunky little thing.

They can call me intense, obstinate, and arrogant.

They can say I did all for the the vanity and the glory-

They’re probably onto something.

They can go on about my pride.

Talk about how my tongue is as silver as it is sharp,

But oh when it cuts, it cuts straight through the heart. 

They’re probably right.

They’re probably on point.

And then they’ve got another thing coming.

I’ve been a hedonist,

A “cheeky little bitch”, an impetuous f*ck.

I’ve been a neurotic,

A gypsy, a weirdo

A whore.

They can say what they want about me.

But they cannot say that I did not question,

give, experiment, and challenge convention.

I’ve been a basketcase

A vixen, a virgin, a shrew.

I’ve been a wise woman,

A viper, a spinster, a fool.

It’s all true.

But they cannot dare say that I did not live,

that I was not free, 

that I did not choose.