Will I still be active, passionate and full of life?
Or will I feel redundant,
Yearning for the day I'll die?

Will I still be relevant, or will I be ignored?
Never thought I'd wonder
What the future has in store?
When I'm a hundred sixty-four

Where will I be living, marble palace
Or dirt floor?
When will I get my pension,
I wouldn't want to work no more?
When I'm a hundred sixty-four

Will I turn grey, or sport a toupee?
Or even care anymore?
At a hundred sixty-four

I hope I'll still be noticed.
Turning heads like before
Will I be cool or nerdy,
Up-to-date or dinosaur
When I'm a hundred sixty-four

Will I be lazy, stuck in my chair
It all seems so crazy, guess I won't care
Anymore?at a hundred sixty-four
I might just be bored?
At a hundred sixty-four