I don’t know if this is what Paul McCartney had in mind for his golden years when he wrote When I’m 64, which he will be this coming June:
A young wife with a rather hefty axe to grind who seems to be taking him along for a bumpy, chilly ride. He can hardly keep up.
He looks confused, and hardly bothers to get a word in – I suppose by now he knows better.
The excuse for their breakup? It's the media's fault.
Funny, he and Linda didn't seem to have that problem.
Come and get me anytime Paul, all is forgiven.