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