CThe old FRocker wCore hiGs hair too lonCg,Bb Amwore his Dmtrouser cuffs too tighGt.
CUnfashioFnablCe to tGhe enBbd -Amdrank his Dmale too light.G GDeath's hCead belt bGuckle -Dyesterday'Gs drFams -
Emthe transport cAmaf' prophet of dooDm.
GRinging no Cchange in Ghis doubDle-sewn seams
iGn hFis Empost-war-bAmabe gloomD.
NEbow hFe's Bbtoo oCldF to Rock'n'RBboll F, Ebbut heA's too young to Dmdie.
YEbes hFe waBbs tooC oFld to Rock'nBb'RollF, Eb but Bbhe's too young to Fdie.
He once owned a Harley Davidson and a Triumph Bonneville.
Counted his friends in burned-out spark plugs
and prays that he always will.
But he's the last of the blue blood greaser boys
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.
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 120
with no room left to brake.
And he was too old to Rock'n'Roll but he was too young to die.
No, you're never too old to Rock'n'Roll if you're too young to die.
Jethro Tull:
Jethro Tull:
Jethro Tull:
Ian Anderson:
