Too Old to Rock 'n' Roll: Too Young to Die!

Cut along the dotted line --- slip in and seal the flap.
Postal competition crazy, though you wear the dunce's cap. W
in a fortnight in Ibiza --- line up for the big hand out.
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Just a little touch of make-up, just a little touch of bull,
Just a little 3-chord trick embedded in your platform soul.
You can wear a gold Piaget on your Semaphore wrist,
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Salamander --- born in the sun-kissed flame.
Who was it lit your candle --- branded you with your name?
I see you walking by my window in your Kensington haze.
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Shake a leg, it's the big rush, can't find a taxi can't find a bus.
Bodies jammed in the underground evacuating London town.
Nowhere to put your feet as the big store shoppers and the pavements meet.
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Now if you think Ray blew it, there was nothing to it. They patched him up as good as new. You can see him every day --- riding down the queen's highway, handing out his small cigars to the kids from school. And all the little girls with their bleached blond curls clump up on their platform soles. And they say ``Hey Ray --- let's ride away downtown where we can roll some alley bowls.'' And Ray grins from ear to here, and whispers... So follow me. Trail along. my leather jacket's buttoned up. And my four-stroke song will pick you up when your last class ends; and you can tell all your friends: The Pied Piper pulled you, The mad biker fooled you, I'll do what you want to: If you ride with me on a Friday anything goes. So follow me, hold on tight. My school girl fancy's flowing in free flight. I've a tenner in my skin tight jeans. You can touch it if your hands are clean. The Pied Piper pulled you, the mad biker folled you, I'll do what you want to: If you ride with me on a Friday anything goes.
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