Old age, old age! Old age, old age!
Old age, old age! Old age, old age!

In fifty years' time our generation
Will take the place of the elderly population
But we’ll rewrite the stereotype, of an OAP
Old age won’t be what it used to be

We’ll take our medication, and sell it on to druggies
Joyriding each other’s electric buggies
We’ll phone the show on the radio, and request to hear the
Golden oldies from the Drum ‘n’ Bass era

And we will hark back to today
Grumble incoherently and say:
“Unless my ailing memory, is failing me
Old age ain’t what it used to be”
It’s not what it used to be!

We’ll all have blogs to complain about the weather
So your friends and family won’t need to visit you ever
They can go online to hear you whine, about your dodgy knees
And all the unnecessary details of your new disease

When your body begins to age it’ll be apparent
Piercings don’t look so good when your skin’s transparent
And the tatoo you got done at twenty one, of a shooting star
Now looks like a cancerous pussy blackened scar

One day you will find yourself alone
In an arm chair, in the common room, of a residential home
And just to keep you quiet, and to help you pass the time
The nurses will stick you in front of a new Play Station 9

Old age, old age! Old age, old age!
Old age, old age! Old age, old age!

The change in the range of granny-fashion will be drastic
Hot pants and boob tubes made of see-through plastic
We’ll do for old dears what Pride did for queers, and rebrand old age
Designer wrinkled skin-grafts will be all the rage
‘Miss Sixty Plus’ cardigans in ironic shades of beige

And we will wear them with pride one day
with slogans on the front that say:
“My mind is getting lazier
My past is getting hazier
My face is getting crazier
Bring on euthanasia!”