She's 34, two years divorced,
Sick of being bored, about to throw
that saddle back on that horse.
He's 39, way past his prime,
Came out of retirement,
everybody said he done lost his mind.
They look at him now,
packing in that crowd,
Just one more touchdown and
he's Super Bowl bound.
It ain't over until you say it is,
Don't pour out your Coca-Cola
if it's still got a little bit of fizz,
Little bit of hop left in that frog,
Little bit of bark left in that dog,
There might not be a lot of roll left in that stone,
Still a little chicken left on that bone.
That GTO, it might be old,
But truth be told, underneath
that rust is a heart of gold.
It's a fixer-upper, every night after supper,
He'll twist and yank and make it crank,
until that thing burns rubber.
But it ain't over until you say it is,
Don't pour out your Coca-Cola
if it's still got a little bit of fizz,
Little bit of juke left in that jive,
Little bit of honey left in that hive,
There might not be a lot of roll left in that stone,
Still a little chicken left on that bone.
Get some dust on them boots,
kick the rust off the bucket,
What you got to lose?
Ha ha… nothing!
No, it ain't over until you say it is,
Don't pour out your Coca-Cola
if it's still got a little bit of fizz,
Little bit of tick left in that tock,
Little bit of click left in that clock,
There might not be a lot of roll left in that stone,
Still a little chicken left on that bone.
