If it's all the same to you

If it's all the same to you, I'd rather eat my porridge cold. I'll take a gust of wind while on my walk, and some rain on my window pane. I prefer my tea without sugar, thanks; my roses red, my violets blue... That is, if it's all the same to you.

If it's all the same to you, I can't abide the smell of bacon. Your snoring makes my stomach tired, the house is smoky when you make the fire, the flowers in the front yard have all but died since you dumped your coffee ground there, so if it's all the same to you, just stay stimulated with a little more care... I'll try to be patient, watch them grow again, and try to see it all the same...

If it's all the same to you, sometimes I wish you weren't here. I'm tired, I'm stressed, I want to undress and go crawling into my bed. Sometimes I feel oh so old when I'm lying, alone in the cold. I know in my head, from my little bed, that you're quietly smoking your cigar and reading your book by the fire. In an hour or two you'll come to bed, quietly kiss me on the head, pull up the covers and put out the light because to you it's all the same.

If it's all the same to you, I want to watch us both grow old. I want to see your heart and hold the little memories there. I'll poor your tea, stir your porridge, and pick you flowers everyday. I'll learn to be patient, try to listen to every word that you say. I'd even be willing to settle down and marry you today... But, that is, only if, to you it's all the same...