"I've no wish to be living sixty years on."

A 23-year-old Elton John sang those words at his first U.S. concert, at the Troubadour club in Los Angeles on Aug. 25, 1970.

On Sunday night at a sold-out concert at New York's Madison Square Garden, John will open with the same song, "Sixty Years On." The show, not coincidentally, will also be his 60th sell-out appearance there. More significantly, it will mark the day that the global pop star reaches 60 years on himself.

Much like the narrator in The Who's "My Generation," who hopes to expire "before I get old," and the guy who wonders "will you still need me, will you still feed me" in the Beatles' "When I'm Sixty-Four," the lonely, broken 60-year-old imagined in John's 1969 composition has soldiered on long past his planned expiration date.

"I never would have believed I'd still be singing it 37 years down the line," John told the Atlanta Journal-Constitution recently during some rare downtime at his Peachtree Road residence. "But that's the kind of incredible career I've had."

A part-time Atlantan for 16 years now (he has retained his British citizenship), John concedes that taking time to reminisce on that career usually ranks up there with watching his beloved Braves blowing four games in a row on the road.

But on the eve of his 60th birthday, John spent 90 minutes looking back on all things Elton, including: his life in Atlanta; his addictions and recovery; the formation of his AIDS Foundation; a rare discussion about his faith; his four-decade partnership with lyricist Bernie Taupin; and what the future still holds for a man with two Tony Awards, an Oscar, five Grammys and a Chronicle of Philanthropy magazine cover.

At 60, John is far from the sort of wizened relic he and Taupin envisioned as twentysomethings in "Sixty Years On." And it's clear his adopted U.S. hometown has had much to do with his positive outlook and prolific musical output.

In Atlanta, John has written and recorded the albums "Peachtree Road" and "The Captain and the Kid," created the Broadway musicals "Aida" and "Lestat," and composed the soundtrack to the animated Dreamworks film "The Road to El Dorado."

He decided to make the city his American home base shortly after a self-described lifesaving stint in rehab in 1990. Doctors and therapists had told him plainly that if he remained in the celebrity- and coke-soaked world of Los Angeles, he would die.

John was introduced to the Southeast's largest city by his then-boyfriend, Atlantan Hugh Williams.

In the time he's spent here, which varies year to year — he also has a luxury suite in Las Vegas and homes in England and France — John has become friends with folks outside the entertainment industry. Like other new residents, he learned the streets by driving around the city and sitting in gridlock. He prowled the aisles at Tower Records until the chain's recent demise, and introduced Hollywood pals like Elizabeth Taylor to the Buckhead Diner. He plays tennis most mornings and buys photography from local galleries. (He's accumulated so much that his pictures are routinely rotated on the walls of his home.)

"It's quiet here for me," the singer says, sipping a bottle of Evian and relaxing in a dark blue Nike warm-up suit in his ornate Peachtree Road condo. Out on the patio, a wrought iron weather vane is being tugged gently toward Sandy Springs. The view is a lush green, skyscraper-dotted panorama of the city.

"I can hear and I can breathe and I can write here," he explains. "But if I want, with the choice of venues here, I can go out and see any type of music that I want. Whether it's the Braves, the Hawks or the Thrashers, no matter where I am in the world, I have to find out if we've won or not. I'm an Atlanta person through and through."

Well, almost. After 16 years, John confesses, he has yet to utter a single "bless your heart."

"No," he says laughing. "But I do start y'alling after I've been here a few days. I'll be on the phone with David" — his partner of 17 years, David Furnish — "and he'll say 'You're beginning to y'all, you know.' I start to get the twang. You can't help it. It's in the air."

'I can't pussyfoot around'

As comfortable as he feels in Atlanta, John says some sad life lessons — the shooting deaths of pal John Lennon in 1980 and close friend and designer Gianni Versace in 1997 — have obliged him to take precautions. As he travels about the city, he is always accompanied by security.

"I hate it, but it's a necessary thing," he says. "But you can't become a recluse. If someone is going to do [harm to you] they're going to do it. ... You never know. But you have to enjoy life. I'm not going to hide."

More than 25 years after Lennon's death, his late friend's life continues to inform his own, John says. In particular, he admired Lennon's abilities to speak his mind on issues that mattered. "He ended up getting up a bunch of peoples' noses, but he didn't care."

The singer laughs when it's suggested that it's a trait he shares.

"Yeah," he concedes. "I don't like to hurt people's feelings. But I can't pussyfoot around."

That was evident last year, when John made global headlines for suggesting that all religion should be banned. But as he elaborates on that topic, a surprisingly spiritual outlook emerges.

"I meant that religion has gotten so far out of control that we've lost the way," he explains. "I have a chapel in my house in Windsor [England], with all my family members [represented] and an altar and a Bible. I firmly believe in Jesus Christ.

"But religion has gotten so divisive. It's being used to create fear and to instill hatred. Christian principles are about forgiveness, tolerance and understanding. Jesus forgave the person who betrayed him. That's one thing I learned in treatment and in rehab. It's very, very important to learn to forgive."

The news story that resonated most with him last year, he says, was that of the Pennsylvania Amish community that forgave a gunman who killed five schoolchildren and wounded five others.

"That's Christianity to me," he says. "That act, in reply to what was one of the most heartbreaking things anyone could possibly go through, was amazing."

John says that Ryan White, the hemophiliac Indiana teenager who contracted AIDS through a blood transfusion, also showed him the value of forgiveness. Throughout the 1980s, the youngster and his family battled both the disease and a town that didn't want Ryan attending school there. John befriended the family and performed at White's 1990 funeral.

"I was a lost soul," he says of that time. "I never became a bad person, but with the drink and drugs, I had lost all sense of reason. I was self-obsessed."

White and his family, John says, "were definitely catalysts in proving to me that my life was a bunch of crap. ... Their ability to forgive and how they handled their child's eventual death was something I'll never forget."

Six months later, he says, "I finally got the message and got into treatment. I had to learn how to become a human being again."

'Still trying to find that perfect song'

Shortly after completing rehab, in September 1991, John walked alongside then-Atlanta Mayor Maynard Jackson in the city's inaugural AIDS Walk. The following year, he established the Elton John AIDS Foundation, a nonprofit that has raised more than $125 million to combat the global disease.

Last year, the foundation was featured on the cover of the prestigious Chronicle of Philanthropy, an honor as significant to the singer as any of his Grammy awards.

In contrast, he prefers not to dwell on the impact of his work with lyricist Bernie Taupin. The pair's prolific four-decade professional partnership has outlasted those of such duos as Rodgers and Hammerstein and Lennon and McCartney, and created a song catalog of 20th century standards including "Your Song," "Daniel," "Candle in the Wind," "Rocket Man" and "Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me."

Their work has traveled technologically from the days of vinyl 45s to being digitally polished for a re-release on iTunes next week. Pondering the fact that even the most casual music fan knows their work, John grows quiet for the first time, avoiding eye contact and staring at his now-empty water bottle. When he speaks again, he seems to be on the verge of blushing.

"I can't really think about all that or I would go nuts. It would just fill my ego with such ... you know. I know that people have our work and I'm very flattered by it. ... It's tremendously gratifying to know that our work is respected."

As for the future, John says his goals remain simple: "I'm still trying to find that perfect song."

When it's suggested that he may already have supplied several volumes' worth, he laughs.

"I know, I know. But as a songwriter, you've still got to be out there searching for that Holy Grail, that next melody. I still want to take risks. ... I have a greater love of music now than I did when I was 17. I'm not burned out. I feel full of creativity and I'm still going to make good records. It doesn't matter if they get to number one or not.

"I still want to hear new things. I'm still a fan."