Out past the cornfields where the woods got heavy, out in the back seat of my ’60 Chevy. Workin’ on mysteries without any clues, workin’ on our night moves.
Call me a relic, call me what you will, say I’m old fashion, say I’m over the hill. Today’s music ain’t got the same soul, I like that old time rock and roll.
Stood alone on a mountain top, starin’ out at the Great Divide. I could go east, I could go west, it was all up to me to decide. Just then I saw a young hawk flyin’ and my soul began to rise.
My management tells me, Don’t be optimistic, because it’s the young people’s world now. They want to hear what they want to hear, and you’re a classic rocker. I don’t know if you’re gonna get the play.
The two hours onstage is great. But I can only play a show and then take a night off. I have to sing for two hours, and then I’ve gotta rest it for a night. So it’s the other 46 hours that are just boring as heck.
