Too Old To Rock 'N' Roll: Too Young To Die

The old rocker wore his hair too long, wore his trouser cuffs too tight
Unfashionable to the end, drank his ale too light
Death's head belt buckle, yesterday's dreams, the transport caf' prophet of doom
Ringing no change in his double-sewn seams in his post-war babe gloom

Now, he's too old to rock 'n' roll but he's too young to die
Yes, he's too old to rock 'n' roll but he's too young to die

He once owned a Harley Davidson and a Triumph Bonneville
Counted his friends in burned-out spark plugs, prays that he always will
But he's the last of the blue blood greaser boys and all of his mates are doing time
Married with three kids up by the ring road, sold their souls straight down the line
And some of them own little sports cars and meet at the tennis club do's
For drinks on a Sunday, work on Monday, they've thrown away their blue suede shoes

Now, they're too old to rock 'n' roll and they're too young to die
Now, yes, they're too old to rock 'n' roll and they're too young to die

So, the old rocker gets out his bike to make a ton before he takes his leave
Up on the A1 by Scotch Corner, just like it used to be
And as he flies, tears in his eyes, his wind-whipped words echo the final take
And he hits the trunk road doing around a hundred and twenty with no room left to brake

And he was too old to rock 'n' roll and he was too young to die
Oh, he was too old to rock 'n' roll and he was too young to die
No, you are never too old to rock 'n' roll if you?re too young to die
No, you are never too old to rock 'n' roll, but he was too young to die