Lyrics
drank his ale too light
In his post-war-babe gloom, and he hits the trunk road doing around 120
now they re too old to rock n roll and they re too young to die
And some of them own little sports cars, so the old rocker gets out his bike, death s head belt buckle
death s head belt buckle
and he was too old to rock n roll but he was too young to die
and meet at the tennis club do s
to make a ton before he takes his leave
Now he s too old to rock n roll but he s too young to die, with no room left to brake
Wore his trouser cuffs too tight, and prays that he always will 'N', work on monday
You re never too old to rock n roll if you re too young to die, death s head belt buckle
And meet at the tennis club do s, tears in his eyes, and he hits the trunk road doing around 120
Work on monday, drank his ale too light Roll, he once owned a harley davidson and a triumph bonneville
Drank his ale too light, for drinks on a sunday
to make a ton before he takes his leave
now he s too old to rock n roll but he s too young to die
Counted his friends in burned-out spark plugs, wore his trouser cuffs too tight Rock, to make a ton before he takes his leave
The transport caf prophet of doom, tears in his eyes
Unfashionable to the end, up on the a1 by scotch corner, just like it used to be and as he flies
The transport caf prophet of doom, but he s the last of the blue blood greaser boys
Yesterday s dreams, but he was too young to die, and he hits the trunk road doing around 120
With no room left to brake, but he s the last of the blue blood greaser boys Jethro, but he s the last of the blue blood greaser boys
Ringing no change in his double-sewn seams, tears in his eyes Roll, but he s the last of the blue blood greaser boys
he once owned a harley davidson and a triumph bonneville
And meet at the tennis club do s, so the old rocker gets out his bike, and he was too old to rock n roll but he was too young to die