Dear Morrissey, is it you that is losing your touch
Or just me getting colder with age?
Cos I don’t fall asleep to your songs on repeat these days
And so you see, since I learned to accept who I am
There’s less need to find solace in you
And on dull rainy days you will have to make way for a Swedish home furnishing store
So I’ll leave you to your slightly questionable ways
There’s nobody else could have us join in with a song humanising the National Front
And we said it was art but with hands on our hearts could we swear we had no doubts at all?
So we’ll leave you to your slightly questionable ways
Contrary are the courters of controversy
But I remember don’t you see?
That the first word I etched on a desk with a pen was “Morrissey”
And the first time the words meant as much as the music was Morrissey
And the moaning that came from my room every day was Morrissey
And the reason my mum had to ask: was I gay?
La la la, la la la, la la la, I loved you Morrissey
But at a rate that’s inverse to your increasing girth
I am losing my interest in you