I got leather spots on my hands
I'd help with that, but it's my back
Here’s the plain, simple fact
I’m sixty
I got battle scars around my eyes
I got ex-husbands with bitchy wives
I look back and I wonder why
I’m sixty
I’m almost home; I’m almost home
I got cowboys who can eat my dust
I got a tendency to sleep and rust
My gut’s the only thing I trust
I’m sixty
I got one good man who don't move fast
I got three girlfriends, born to last
I'm the boss, I ain't the staff,
I’m sixty
I’m almost home; I’m almost home
I got old heartaches in my soul
I like to rock, I like to roll
I've learned to just say “No”
I’m sixty
I got a lot of snow on my roof
I’ve learnt to speak half the truth
The good die young, here’s the proof
I’m sixty
I’m almost home; I’m almost home.