(instrumental break)

I hold you in my arms
while the bones ache.
What are those words whispered, baby?
It's me, "I just can't take."
I saw you last night
through my bifocal lens.
I wanna read your mind to know
just what to do when old age will commence.

So tell me what I see?
Is it rust, is it mold?
It is me, baby?
Now that I'm sixty years old?

I heard somebody call your name
with my new aid of hearing.
I saw something tucked in shame:
Candles, sixty-yearing.
Well, I try so hard, baby
but I just can't see
what a young chick like you
is doing with me?

So tell me who I see
in these years that are gold?
Is it me, baby?
Now that I'm sixty years old?

Now, look at me, baby
struggling to do anything right
because it all falls apart
because I'm not spry or spright.
I'm just a lonely pilgrim.
I walk with replacement hip.
I wanna know, can this doctor I trust?
Or does he not give a rip?

Now, you play the younger woman.
I play the older man.
But just don't look too close
at these age spots on my hands.
When we stood at the altar
the wedding film, it was black-and-white.
But in the wee, wee hours
on a DVD
it still looks right.

So when you look at me
see past each wrinkle and fold.
This is me, baby
and now I'm sixty years old!

Tonight our bed is cold
and the reason, baby, well you do know.
God have mercy on the man
who gets up three times to go.