The sweat doesn’t fling the way it used to.
I don’t know why that is.
Do I not work so hard?
Is there just less weight to work with?
Am I no longer… a sweater?

I’d been a sweater all my life
just pouring that shit out of every gland.
Now, like PJ, I’m just left dry.

It’s not like it’s a bad thing.
It’s just not the me I know.
Who am I these days?
What is this creature I have become?
Like John Entwistle, who are I?

There’s no answers,
almost like Elvis Costello.