Death Row Blues

You might be a rich man, living high upon the hill,

coming down to China town, just for a thrill.

I might be a prisoner, waitin' on death row.No matter who you are,

when your time has come,

you gotta go.Feeling mighty lonesome, here behind these bars.

Countin' of the days, countin' my scars.

I can't tell the future, but this I know:

When my countin' days are over, I got to go.When you came to the world, they gave yourself a spoon.

I was born in a shotgun shed, on the last day of June.

I'm about to leave this world, my friend, without much to show.

But I'm so glad I got to sing my song, before I go.