Tekster: The Smiths. Best I. What Difference Dies It Make.

:
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 feeling very sick and ill today
But I'm still fond of you, oh-ho-oh

Oh, my sacred one ...
Oh ...