ViP Jukebox Vol. 1 - opet

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

Now hes too old to rocknroll but hes too young to die
yes hes too old ... etc.
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 hes the last of the blue blood greaser boys
And all his mates are doin 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 their tennis club
dos
For drinks on a Sunday - work on Monday
Theyve thrown away their blue suede shoes

Now theyre too old to rocknroll but theyre to young to die
Yes theyre too old ... etc.
So the old rocker gets out his bike to make a ton before he takes his
leave
Upon 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
As he hits the trunk road doing around 120
With no room left to brake