Lord I've been travelling down this old lonesome road
So many miles I put behind me

But off in the distance now I see my end in sight
And I look back down the years but I can't count them

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There's saints and there's sinners and they're crowding in on me

Looking for some kind of retribution

But I was just having fun and besides, what's done is done

And I don't give a damn about absolution

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If you really want to know, sometimes it's been touch and go
But I always did resent the implication

That at the first sign of trouble I'd just take out on the lam

I refute it, it's a total fabrication

It's a loathsome kind of talent, being slippery as a snake

But it always helps to have an explanation

Though St. Peter might not buy it when you're knocking at the gate

'Cos it might not bear too close investigation

So as I raise a glass to the future and the past
I'm not looking for any vindication

It's been good, it's been bad, it's been joyous and it's been sad

And I offer up this plea in mitigation

Lord I've been travelling down this old lonesome road
So many miles I put behind me

But off in the distance now I see my end in sight
And I look back down the years but I can't count them