They used to call me "The Cured Sausage Man"
lil bit scary rear-end fan.
i'm playing out my wiener through a violent twang,
Ramming my licks deep into an accordion's ham.
They used to call me: "The Knucklebone Boy"

30 years later, I'm still going on.
50 years old, and i'm still doing strong.
I never dreamed I'd be playing this long,
finding love in each and every song.

My habits got cleaner unlike my guitar tone,
you know how it works, to each their own.
Repeating the same tricks as a life insurance loan,
would be living hell for me, I'd rather die all alone.
They call me now: "Uncle Knuckle"

Every once in a while I meet somebody who
is expecting me to be that twenty-year-old fool.
I understand, but there's only one thing I can do,
show them to the mirror and say: "Hey, you've grown older too."
then they call me a tiny piece of shit motherfucker