Mudamos o mundo todos os dias. A qualquer hora. Sem censura. Amarga ou doce. Com ou sem o primeiro gomo de tangerina.

Friday, August 13, 2004

what difference does it make?

[Só mais uma juro. Mas a poesia do Morrisey é como a cereja... E é já um vício antigo. E uma virtude pública, até. ]

The Smiths

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

But no more apologies
No more, no more apologies
Oh, I'm too tired
I'm so sick and tired
And I'm feeling very sick and ill today
But I'm still fond of you

Oh, my sacred one ...


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