Too old to rock?

Too old to rock?   
I hope not.  
Metal has been my rock, so to speak.  
It has formed the scissors to cut the bonds   
That society has bound me with.  
It has been the paper that wraps my imagination into little gifts  
That I may unwrap each joyous present of music.  
With each blast beat my heart roars into life and I feel unstoppable.  
With each long, glorious pick slide my smile stretches wide.  
My hair may be a thing of the past and I miss it so;   
Stretching as it did down to my ass.  
Windmills are no more but the memory remains.
I still give it everything I can muster when I hit the floor  
But I pay for it sevenfold with three days grace.  
If metal is a tool to engage my killswitch,  
Then kick me in my machine head and burn my still remains.  
Too old to rock?   
I think not.  
James Hetfield.... Hit the lights  
Timmy C.... Bring that beat in......  
See you at the barrier.