Chrissie Hynde

I must be going through a metamorphosisThe senile dementia or some kind of psychosisI don’t even care about rock and rollAll my favourites seem tired and oldMy whole collection now feels like a wasteI’m losing my sense of taste
I must be going through a huge transitionI noticed last night at an exhibitionI found myself feeling nostalgic and sadLike the best of the culture’s been hadA busy Rothko to the modernesque claysI’m not interested in art these days
I must be going through a terrible shiftYou say elevator and I call it a liftOh, we speak the same language but neither do wellBlur by the nonsense of buy fit to sellI’m losing my sense of smellI’m losing my sense of smell
I must be going through the motions at bestI thought of you so much that it caused me unrestBut I’ve the real life, should you bother to call?I’d probably just leave the phone to ring off the wallThe beginning, the middle, the end must be nearingOr maybe I’m losing my sense of hearingI’m losing my sense of hearing