Pretenders Losing My Sense Of Taste
I must be going
Through a metamorphosis
Pre-senile dementia
Or some kind of psychosis
I don't even care about rock and roll
All my old favourites seem tired and old
My whole collection
Now feels like a waste
I'm losing my sense of taste
I must be going through
A huge transition
I noticed last night at an exhibition
I found myself feeling
Nostalgic and sad
Like the best of
The culture's been had
Beardsley, Rothko
And the modern S.Clays
I'm not interested in art these days
I must be going through
A terrible shift
You say 'elevator' and
I call it a 'lift'
We speak the same language
But neither do well
Spout utter nonsense
About fish to sell
I'm losing my sense of smell
I'm losing my sense of smell
I must be going through
The motions at best
I thought of you so much
That it caused me unrest
But I realise
Should you bother to call
I'd probably just leave the phone
To ring off the wall
The beginning, the middle
The end must be nearing
Or maybe I'm losing my
Sense of hearing
I'm losing my sense of hearing
