por vezes penso naquilo que seriam os smiths se nunca tivessem acabado. o mais certo era terem sido tragados pela mainstream que tanto criticaram, morrissey tornar-se um bobo da corte, bufão de si mesmo, e marr perder a criatividade e começar a repetir-se canção após canção. terá sido esse o preço a pagar para ficarem na história como o grupo pop mais-que-perfeito dos anos oitenta, acabar ao fim de quatro anos e quatro albuns? e que diferença faria?

All men have secrets and here is mine


So let it be known


For we have been through hell and high tide


I think I can rely on you


And yet you start to recoil


Heavy words are so lightly thrown


But still I'd leap in front of a flying bullet for you

So, what difference does it make?


So, what difference does it make?


It makes none


But now you have gone


And you must be looking very old tonight

The devil will find work for idle hands to do


I stole and I lied, and why?


Because you asked me to


But now you make me feel so ashamed


Because I've only got two hands


Well, I'm still fond of you, oh ho oh

So, what difference does it make ?


Oh, what difference does it make ?


Oh, it makes none


But now you have gone


And your prejudice won't keep you warm tonight

Oh, the devil will find work for idle hands to do


I stole, and then I lied


Just because you asked me to


But now you know the truth about me


You won't see me anymore


Well, I'm still fond of you, oh ho oh

But no more apologies


No more, no more apologies


Oh, I'm too tired


I'm so sick and tired


And I'm feelin' very sick and ill today


But I'm still fond of you, oh ho oh

Oh, my sacred one


Oh, oh, oh
, ohh